


Invisible

by Bastet5



Series: The Wild Hunt [14]
Category: FBI: Most Wanted (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Mass shooting, Medical Trauma, Mentions of Suicide, Not To Major Characters, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sniper Battle, Snipers, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, cost of war, field medicine, mentions of drug addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet5/pseuds/Bastet5
Summary: Early November 2019A mass-shooting at a gun range in Rhode Island sets the team on the hunt for a decorated army sniper, whose skills and training test their own skills and push them to the limit, who time after time proves he's one step ahead.A race to catch a man whose profession means hiding is one of his greatest talents before someone else falls victim to his rampage ... even the team itself.A case that hits too close to home, especially for Kenny.
Relationships: Clinton Skye & Original Female Character(s), Kenny Crosby & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Hunt [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678864
Comments: 79
Kudos: 17





	1. Sunday, November 3: Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of Suicide and Drug Addiction; Mass Shooting
> 
> Graphic Depictions Of Violence warning is because of the shooting at the end of the episode (final chapter). I might not need the warning, but I'm just trying to be careful.

The crack of gunfire washed over Kateri like familiar white noise … unless the bigger rifles on the other lanes around her started firing. Those made her flinch despite her familiarity with big guns. Handguns and smaller caliber rifles, those she could tune out with only a little effort.

After a very busy October with three hunts one after the other, the team had been enjoying a brief break without cases or dreaded paperwork. There had been nothing work related to do … _for what, four days now? Five?_ … and Kateri was trying to resolutely not think about how that probably meant that the team was due for another case soon.

_Don’t jinx us!_

Kateri was taking advantage of the time off by spending her Sunday morning at the gun range. (After staying up entirely too late reading, she had then slept straight through her alarm … _for one of the rare times in my life …_ and missed Sunday morning mass. _I’ll just go this evening, instead._ ) Considering New York’s rather stringent gun laws, one might think that finding a good gun range or even a gun range in New York City of all places might be more difficult, but if you were a cop or belonged to one of the local ( _numerous_ ) alphabet soup agencies, it was not.

Rodman’s Neck[1] was an oddly shaped peninsula of land that jutted out from the Bronx about six miles from Kateri’s neighborhood in Belmont. Apart from some nice meadow land and a decent beach, the southern third of the peninsula belonged to the NYPD. There were seven separate ranges, a school with lecture halls and classrooms, a firearms training simulator, and the New York version of Hogan’s Alley. The firing ranges were open to the FBI, and so Kateri came as frequently as her caseload allowed to keep her skills sharp.

_That it’s closer to my place just makes it even more convenient._

_Don’t have to navigate Manhattan traffic to get some place either._

_I hate traffic in Manhattan._

One very convenient thing about shooting at a range populated by law enforcement was that it … usually … saved you from being around and … occasionally having to deal with … newbies. It also could prevent you from interacting with those who thought they knew something about guns but couldn’t shoot straight if their lives depended on it. On one of her side-trips to DC a few years before, Kateri had gone to the NRA Range in Virginia as stress relief and a break from the idiots in DC. _Seeing all the bullet holes almost straight up and straight down and in the walls so close to the stations, *shudder*_.

The indoor range Kateri was at that Sunday was unusually quiet, only 10 or so of the 22 lanes being full. _Which means that I can shoot for as long as I have ammo to burn_. Kateri had brought all 3 of her main handguns to practice with: her Glock 19 (her usual duty pistol), her Glock 43 (her usual backup gun), and her Glock 23 (her alternate duty pistol).

_Glocks, they take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’, as the saying goes._

Kateri used three-by-five-inch notecards with a small orange reflective dot in the center as targets, instead of much larger practice targets that could be a foot square. Her practice doing both rapid and slow fire drills went well with both her 23 and her 43. _My groups are good, and I blew out the dot so that’s a success_. When the carrier returned with her target for her first mag with her 19, there was a problem.

A big problem.

 _Bloody, bloody h**l_.

Instead of blowing out the orange dot with her 19, Kateri had blown out roughly the right half of the dot and some of the adjoining white part of the card. _Considering my groups with my 23 and 43 were right on target, I don’t think this is me, but better double check_.

Another notecard and another mag with her 19 caused the same problem. Her 19 was shooting right, not dead-on target as it should have been and usually did. _Well, bloody h**l_. Unless Kateri had somehow forgotten to aim with this gun— _and I’m not a bloody rookie or bloody distracted_ —and not the others, there was a problem with the 19’s sights. _And I hate adjusting my sights. It’s so easy to overcorrect them and then get the opposite problem._

 _Ugh_.

The feel of her phone buzzing in her pocket drew her from her mental complaining. Locking the slide back on her 19 and dropping the empty mag, Kateri sat the pistol down on the table and made a sign to the range officer pacing the floor— _making sure nobody does anything stupid. It’s amazing what you see if you spend enough time at even a good range_ —that she had to answer a call and would be right back. _Can’t remember his name, but he knows my face and knows I’m FRT_ , which meant that there wasn’t a problem with her slipping out to answer a call.

And calls at odd times usually meant work. _Oh, I hope not_.

 _‘least it’s not some unearthly hour of the morning._ There had been a handful of those cases in the past several years. _Thankfully extremely rare._

Kateri slipped off the range and pulled off her ear protection once she was safely clear. _Don’t want to go prematurely deaf any earlier than necessary_. Her phone had stopped buzzing by the time she got off the range floor, but when she thumbed her phone open, she saw a missed call from her partner, not a text from Jess like she had been expecting.

 _Okay. That’s a little weird_.

 _Why’s Clinton calling me?_ She felt a hint of worry spread through her.

Her partner’s number was #1 on her speed dial, so it only took a moment to call him back. Kateri pressed the phone to her ear and let it ring, idly analyzing the form of an officer with an AR-15 who had just stepped up to the firing line.

“Sorry,” Kateri said as soon as the line connected, “Couldn’t get to my phone in time.” _Well, I kinda could have, but I probably would have deafened you_.

“Not a problem.” On the range, the officer with the AR started shooting, the sound noticeable even outside in the seating area, and Clinton’s voice grew puzzled and concerned both, “Why do I hear gun-shots?”

“Because I am at the range, Rodman’s Neck,” Kateri replied, “You called while I was on the line. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a case. You never replied to the text from Jess so he asked me to check in, make sure everything was okay.”

_…_

_What text from Jess?_

“I didn’t get a text from Jess,” Kateri replied, pulling her phone away from her ear just long enough to double-check that she had not missed a text from the boss. No new, unread texts were showing in her messaging app.

 _Bloody h**l_.

“Well, that would explain that,” her partner replied dryly, “Mass shooting up in Rhode Island. It’s a bit of a drive so Jess wants to get moving as soon as possible.”

 _Double bloody h**l_.

“I can leave here in five,” said Kateri, “and I can probably be to HQ maybe in 30ish after that. Thanks for the head’s up. Tell Jess I said sorry. I got zilch from him.”

_So much for having time to fix my sights._

“Thanks, kid. I’ll let him know.”

Kateri returned her phone to her pocket, cursing under her breath. Her gun’s sights were a problem. She had missed the call to arms from Jess, _which means I’m going to be late_ , and Rodman’s Neck was even farther from HQ than her apartment and usual stomping grounds, _which means I’m going to be even later_. _Bloody h**l_. And a case with a mass-shooting and a lengthy drive made for a really, really, really, bad day to be late. _Bloody h**l_.

* * *

Because the day could just get more frustrating, what should have been a thirty-minute drive from Rodman’s Neck in the Bronx to FBI HQ in Manhattan turned into a forty-five-minute drive when Kateri got slowed down to a crawl temporarily by a traffic accident on the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge that bridged Randall’s Island and Manhattan. By the time Kateri got to HQ, over fifty minutes had passed since Clinton had called her, and who knows how long had passed since the text she had missed from Jess.

Kateri was not in a good mood and was quite flustered by the time she pushed open the door to the team’s meeting room and found all her teammates assembled, bags packed, sitting at the table, and … _waiting on me. Sometimes I hate my life_. That did nothing to help her be less flustered either.

“Sorry, boss,” Kateri said in a rush, “Accident on the RFK bridge.”

The boss nodded but seemed frustrated. _Hopefully with the situation, not me!_ He motioned for her to get packed. Clinton gave her a sympathetic smile, adding quietly in Mohawk as she passed him, “Don’t worry if you miss anything. I’ll explain in in the car.”

“Niáwen.”[2]

Kateri made for her locker, her mind half-on the case and half-on what she needed to grab. _Do I take my 19? The sights aren’t off that much_. She patted her pocket, ensuring that the notecard-targets were still there. _Do I take my 23, instead? Do I have extra mags in my locker? Only have the one with me_. Going into a case with only one magazine for her main gun would be … _insanely stupid, as in Darwin award **[3]** kind of stupid_.

The part of her brain that was occasionally of the “ooh, shiny” inclination latched on to the Darwin award thought. _Does Kenny know about those? Those could make an Insomniacs Club meeting very interesting._

 _Focus! You’re already behind, and you made the others wait on you, and this is a bad case. Get ready!_ The other part of her brain reminded her.

Meanwhile, Hana had already prepared the screens, and now that everyone was present, she began the briefing, “Scot Weitzen, 32. Army sniper discharged with the rank of Lieutenant. Got into a flight with an equipment clerk. Next thing you know five dead.”

“Bloody h**l,” Kateri swore under her breath as she rummaged through her locker for the things she needed. Hearing the fugitive’s age, she stopped rummaging suddenly long enough to look at the Most Wanted Poster again.

 _Bloody h**l. He’s almost my age exactly._ Kateri had just over two weeks on him. _Okay. Back to work now._

_Let’s see. My bags are packed. Got my jacket and my coat. My pockets have their usual stuff. Packed like normal before I left my place this morning. Just gun stuff I need._

Kateri returned to her rummaging through her locker, curling her lip in annoyance at the state of her locker. _Entropy has taken over again. High time, I straightened up this rat’s nest._

“Nicknamed Cyclops,” Kenny continued, reading over Hana’s shoulder, “Two tours in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria. 31 confirmed kills. 3 from over a mile away.” There was awe and admiration in his voice with those last words.

_Wowweeee._

_Why he’s nicknamed Cyclops, I wonder? Not much of that description sounds remotely similar to the ogre from Greek myths or to the X-Men character_.

Clinton was just as … _amazed?_ “One’s a fluke,” he noted, “Two, you’re blessed, but three?”

_Lucky us, we’re not just going up against a sniper. We’re going up one who could take potshots at us and we’d never know it ‘till we started dropping like flies. Lovely._

Hana was scrolling through the crime scene photos from the Diamond Hill Shooting Range in Rhode Island. _Five people cut down in seconds._ Kateri shook her head and kept on digging through her locker. _This is just great, really just great._ Two passes through the stacks of stuff had not uncovered either the tools she needed to adjust her 19s sights, extra mags for her 23, or even extra 23 ammo. _Bloody, bloody h**l._ _Do I have some in my bag? Left my duffle in my truck, I was in such a hurry_.

Back out the door Kateri went, face like thunder and grumbling imprecations under her breath. This day was fast turning into one of those where she wished she’d stayed home or in bed, and the further things that kept turning up missing, the more rattled she was getting. _What else have I forgotten?_

_Did I forget to screw on my brain when I crawled out of bed earlier?_

Her duffle and backpack were thoroughly and quickly searched. While Kateri found a few things, which she had forgotten she had packed previously or had been missing, none of what she was actually looking for was there in either bag. _While I’m glad to find that extra 43 mag and my copy of_ Golden Compass _, I needed other things._

_Extra mags aren’t much use without ammo to put them in._

_Do I have time to go upstairs?_ Kenny and Hana emerging bags in hand from the meeting room door answered that question as a resounding no. “Bloody, bloody h**l.”

Grabbing her two bags, Kateri relocked her truck and dropped her bags by the car she and Clinton always used. Then back inside it was to get a couple things out of her locker that she hadn’t grabbed while looking for the other stuff she needed. Clinton held the door for her as she exited, eyes following her with a puzzled glance.

Jess and Barnes had already exited, but someone had seen her locker open and must have guessed she was coming back, so there were enough lights on to guide her footsteps and keep her from rubbing into furniture or stubbing/thawking any appendages.

 _Last thing I need is to break a couple toes_.

All Kateri’s guns were packed, so the decision of which to carry— _the 19 with the faulty sights or the 23 without enough ammo or the 43 with a five-shot mag_ —could be postponed for a couple of hours. Kateri retrieved an extra box of hollow point 9mm ammo from underneath a pile of precariously balanced papers along with another 9mm mag. Then she noticed a plastic package shoved all the way at the back. _Extra batteries! I’d been looking for those!_ She grabbed the batteries for her tac light, shored up a leaning towering of stuff ( _really, really need to clean up again_ ), and then shoved the locker door closed with her foot, just barely clipping the fingers of her right hand as it closed.

That sent her into another round of curses— _definitely cursing too much today, something extra for confession next time_ —as Kateri pressed her abused fingers into her armpit, trying to press the pain away and trying not to cry. She wasn’t seriously hurt. _Just pinched ‘em_ , which still hurt like the dickens. _This is not my day._ It felt like everything had been going wrong since Clinton’s call about the case.

The door reopened behind her, and then Clinton’s voice called, “Ready to go, kid?”

“In a minute,” Kateri called back, shaking the last of the pain out of her fingers. _Bloody h**l, that hurt_.

Clinton must have noticed something in her voice, because the door swung shut, and his footsteps grew closer. A hand brushed her shoulder. “You okay? It’s just us here now.”

There were some things that Kateri would say in his hearing or periodically Kenny’s hearing but not in front of the others. _Not in English, that is_.

Kateri bit her lip, blinking back tears, and gave a helpless shrug. She was not the crying type, but moments of extreme stress or flares of her claustrophobia or PTSS made her emotions harder to control. _And a day where everything has been going wrong for the past hour-ish counts as stressful_. _… It’s a human reaction, and you’re allowed to be a human, not tough for once_.

“What happened?” Her partner’s face was concerned.

_You jinxed me!_

Kateri took a deep breath, scrubbed her hands across her face, pushing hair that had grown too long out of her eyes. _Need to get a haircut_. “You jinxed me, partner. My day was going fine until you called, and now …” Her sigh and rolled eyes conveyed more than words would.

Clinton gave a sympathetic half-smile, “Sorry. What happened? Did you lose something?”

“My head maybe,” Kateri grumbled, leaning down to grab the ammo and batteries off the bench, “My 19 isn’t shooting straight. Traffic was bad, and I’m late, which means all of you were waiting on me. I have my 23, but I only have one extra mag and don’t have extra ammo, which I thought were here but must be back at my place. What little 23 ammo I do have with me is range ammo, not hollow point, and the sight-adjustor tool that I thought was in my locker or my bag is in neither, and since I’m late, I didn’t have time to go to the armory.”

 _That seemed a lot less whiney when it was just a list in my head_.

Her partner’s face was sympathetic, “First, you weren’t that late. Jess and I hit traffic, too. I can’t help with the 23, but I can probably fix your sights in the car if you’ll drive first.”

Kateri gave him a thankful smile, “You’re the best.” She pulled the two notecard targets from her pockets and handed them over.

One eyebrow went up, seeing the ½ inch margin of error from her usual shooting standards. “What distance was this?”

“15 feet.”

“A screw must be loose … literally.”

Missing by half an inch at 15 feet might not seem like much, and when engaged directly with a suspect where Kateri was firing a torso shot head-on, a half an inch difference might not make a difference. But in close quarters, with a hostage nearby, or when attempting a headshot, a half-an-inch could be the difference between success and failure, between success and disaster.

_Between taking out a perp and shooting the hostage, instead, or missing and having a bullet goes who-knows-where._

* * *

“So where are we headed?” Kateri asked once the two had packed their bags into the car and were ready to head out. “Where exactly is Diamond Hill?”

“Cumberland, Rhode Island,” Clinton replied.

_Only Cumberland I know is in Maryland._

_Thank goodness for Google Maps_.

There was silence for a few minutes as Kateri wound her way out of the parking lot, out of the area around Federal Plaza with all its traffic complexities, and then headed north on FDR Drive.

“What did I miss, or would that question be better saved until you’re done with that?” Kateri asked, glancing across at her partner for a moment. _I’m used to being in that seat_. She had nothing against driving or against car trips, but Clinton ended up driving most of the time.

Despite being in a moving car Clinton’s hands were steady and sure, and he automatically paused anytime the ride got a little jerky, “It’s fine. When did you step out?”

_What did I miss, that is?_

“Right after your comment about Weitzen having three confirmed kills at over a mile.”

 _So basically everything_.

“Weitzen has no psychological history with the VA, but we don’t have any information from the insurance companies yet. Hana’s checking. He had an honorable discharge from the Army and has no criminal record.”

_And yet he did this?_

_Did he snap?_

“What drives a man to cut down five people at a shooting range, I wonder. It’s rare that a trigger like that appears overnight,” Kateri noted, shaking her head ruefully, “I’m surprised that someone didn’t pick up on something, but the VA isn’t always known for its competence.”

_Or getting things done in a timely fashion._

Clinton gave a snort of agreement, “His mother lives in Stoughton, Massachusetts, about half-an-hour from Cumberland. She told agents that Weitzen moved out 3 weeks ago and has been living in his car ever since.”

 _Definitely a worrying sign_.

“And that didn’t raise any alarm bells?” Kateri rolled her eyes and sighed.

“You’d think,” Clinton agreed dryly, “There’s a nationwide BOLO out on his car, but no hits yet, and there’s a unit outside his mother’s home, but no sign of him there either.”

 _Not surprising_.

“He’s gotta know that his mother’s place would be one of the first places we would check for him and watch. If I were of the inclination to randomly commit a mass shooting, my family’s place would be one of the last places I’d try to hide out.”

_Especially not when the only family I have works for the FBI._

“Agreed. Kenny thinks he might go to a battle-buddy for help so Jess wants a list compiled of the people in Weitzen’s former units and agents sent to everyone.”

“I hope that’s not too long a list or we might run out of agents,” Kateri paused, shook her head, “How do you commit a mass shooting in a gun range and not get shot anyway?”

“That’s what I want to know. We’ll find out when we see the scene and the security footage.”

* * *

It was a three-and-a-half-hour drive from New York City to Cumberland, Rhode Island, a small town ten miles north of Providence along the Rhode Island-Massachusetts state line. The conversation between the two partners meandered from work originally to other things work related to things more personal and back again before, finally, comfortable silence settled over the car. There wasn’t a lot of information on the case yet, and Kateri had been assigned no work to do so far so there wasn’t much to do to pass the time besides talk.

Clinton often seemed to get a little more introspective and a little quieter at this time of year anyway, and Kateri had nothing against comfortable silences. It was the third of November, which meant that the third anniversary of his sister’s death was coming up in less than a week.

_Friday the 8 th. The date sprang up on me._

_Must remember to say prayers for her at mass once we get back from this thing._

Kateri had met Angelyne Skye-LaCroix only once before her untimely death in Afghanistan at the age of 38. One afternoon in 2016, not long before Angelyne’s final deployment, sheer boredom and the rock concert taking place in the apartment above her, had driven Kateri from her apartment. For lack of any better ideas of what to do, Kateri had gone to the Bronx Zoo where she had come across her boss and his wife along with a much younger Tali on a family outing. That had been Kateri’s first time meeting Tali—the two had met a handful of times since then—and her only meeting with the late army captain.

Kateri would never forget the day of Angelyne’s death and the aftermath thereof, either. The team had just finished a mission a few days before that dreadful day, and Kateri and Clinton had been at HQ by themselves finishing up some collaboration on their reports. Out of nowhere, Clinton had gotten a call from his mother who was crying, telling him he needed to come home. Late that night Clinton had called Kateri and told her of his sister’s death. _One of my few well-timed bouts of insomnia_. The two had talked for a long time that night, and the whole team had ended up going to her funeral to support Jess and Clinton.

_I’ve tried to say prayers for her at mass ever since._

_I wish I’d gotten a chance to know her better._

_Freedom isn’t free._

With a brief stop for lunch and bathroom breaks slowing them down … _necessary delays but still delays …_ it was 4pm by the time the team reached Cumberland. Kateri had to keep mentally correcting herself and stopping herself from automatically filling in Cumberland, Maryland, which was more well-known … _to me_.

Diamond Hill Shooting Range was a large outdoor range nestled between two wooded hills that also looked out over a large lake. There were about two dozen lanes, both long and short, and a handful of small buildings between the range and the parking lot. Police had taken crime scene photos earlier, which had been shown during the briefing, but ERT was still swarming over the range when the team arrived.

The crime scene was horrifying. There were markers scattered across the enormous space. Pools of blood and medical detritus marked where the victims of Weitzen’s rampage had fallen in their tracks.

“Bloody h**l,” Kateri breathed, eyes wide, as she got far enough away from the car to see the sheer spread of where the bodies had fallen. _Not the same as reading about it in the report or seeing the photos_.

The team scattered to their various assignments. Hana and Barnes went up to the range office to speak with the manager and pull security video for that morning. _Any clues we can get will be helpful!_ Clinton left to walk the range and talk to ERT to see if he could discover where Weitzen had been shooting from, and Kateri went with Kenny and the boss to speak with the equipment clerk who had seen the whole shooting take place and had been the first to call 911.

 _I’ll see if he knows anything helpful, and then I’ll go find Clinton and update him_.

The equipment clerk, a young man named Del … _thought that was a type of computer_ … was restlessly pacing a small building a stone’s throw from the equipment … _shack, outbuilding, thing_ … when the team arrived. The little room he was in … _not too little thankfully_ _after this morning_ … looked like it probably served as a classroom space for patrons of the range. _Range safety courses. So convenient to have a badge when I’m at a new range._ There was a projector and a white board covered in scribbles that Kateri did not bother trying to decipher.

“I never would have guessed him for something like this,” was one of the first things out of Del’s mouth as he starred out the window toward the equipment shack where he had almost died that morning.

 _Not surprised he looks that shaken. I’d be in his place without my training_.

After being in the FBI for about a decade and being shot at … _I’ve lost track of how many times_ … being shot at was less of an earth-shaking, rattling experience for Kateri.

_Hope he gets some help._

“Cyclops is a d**n American hero,” Del turned away from the window and back towards Kateri and the others who were standing on the other side of the room.

Kateri shivered and burrowed further into her coat as she listened to him talk. The temperature outside was not supposed to get above the low 40s that day, and even with the sun, which was already starting to set, it was still chilly, especially with the wind. The heating in the small building was not compensating well either. _Assuming there actually is heating in here_. Kateri was glad for her fleece jacket underneath her leather jacket and for the toque ( _beanie, as those south of here would call it_ ) pulled low over her ears. _Makes my hair look ridiculous when I take it off, but I’d rather be warm. That’s why you always carry a comb._

“He was a regular here?” Jess asked.

“Yeaaa, every week for the last year,” Del replied.

“Alone?”

Kenny was scanning the room, attention seemingly only half on the conversation, and Kateri glanced around, too, checking to see if he had seen something she’d missed.

“Mostly,” the equipment clerk said with a shrug, “Sometimes with other vets.”

_Chris Kyle kinda situation? **[4]**_

“We heard there was an argument?” Kenny inserted, voice flat, face blank.

Kateri internally blanched. She had been so caught up in trying to get ready to go, so caught up in how terribly her morning was going that she hadn’t been thinking about how the case might affect Kenny. _Bloody h**l. Seriously, Kateri? Vets becoming our targets, those are always harder on him_ _… much harder_. _You need to pay more attention._

“Yeaaa, over bullets!” Del seemed almost incredulous, “He wanted one particular brand, and we were out. He said he needed it for … ummm … his MO something.”

 _Minute of angle accuracy_ , Kateri’s mind automatically filled in. Having a sniper for a partner had taught her a few things.

_Not surprised he was bothered. It always messes my groups up when I have to switch ammo and then resight._

“MOA? Minute of angle accuracy?” Kenny’s voice had gone from flat to very bothered as his temper got riled, “You work at a gun range, and you don’t know what MOA is?” Kenny stepped slowly forward, his voice rising as he spoke.

 _Oh, bloody h**l._ Kateri shot out one arm and hooked her fingers deep into Kenny’s coat sleeve. It wouldn’t do anything to stop him if he actually wanted to keep moving. _But it’ll at least distract him and hopefully make him think about what he’s doing_.

Del just starred at Kenny for a long moment, which did nothing for Kenny’s mood and made Kateri a little uneasy.

“What?” Kenny finally growled.

 _Easy, Kenny._ Kateri curled her hand a little tighter over his arm.

“No, it’s just that you sound just like him,” Del replied, stuttering slightly.

 _Kenny in a bad mood has a way of accidentally intimidating people_.

Kenny took a step back, and Kateri noticed out of the corner of her eye that Jess was staring at them both. _Probably at Kenny, not me_. Jess had recruited Kenny to the team before Kateri herself had joined, and the boss always keep a close eye out for him with his PTSS struggles and anger management issues.

“It freaks me out, alright?” Del continued. _His voice does sound rattled_. “It could’ve been me.”

“How’d the argument end?” Jess asked.

_I’m assuming you mean before all the people ended up dead, boss?_

“I gave Scott a box of bullets and told him to go do his stuff,”— _famous last words_ —“He told me he’d show me what he does.”

_Good life advice. Don’t do stupid, and don’t tick off a sniper either! And the latter definitely is a violation of the former._

After Del had given a quick overview of the shooting from his point-of-view, Kateri felt that she had all the useful information she needed for the moment … _or that I’m going to get_ … and, after catching the boss’ eye and jerking her head toward the door, departed to go find her partner.

Finding Clinton proved to be easier said than done. The range was large and comparatively open, but there were so many people and so many cars blocking sight lines that trying to pick out one person among all those milling about was rather hard. _Let’s try looking for his coat, not him._ Since most of the ERT people wore coats that said FBI in large, horrifically bright yellow type, finding someone not wearing those coats and not wearing police uniforms proved more successful.

_Well, there’s two of my teammates … just not the one I’m looking for._

Hana and Barnes were returning from the range office, and Hana was paying about as much attention to the tablet in her hands as to where she was putting her feet. Kateri cringed, expecting her to trip on the uneven ground at any moment, but turned towards them.

“Find anything?” Kateri asked, reaching up to adjust her hat and push a few strands of hair out of her eyes. _Really need to get a haircut_.

“Security footage,” Hana gestured with her tablet.

“Anything helpful?”

“We’re still checking,” Barnes replied, “We’ll let you know.”

“Jess and Kenny are still talking with the equipment clerk. I’m looking for Clinton, but I can’t find him between ERT and the cops and this sprawling area.”

Barnes gestured toward one of the hills that abutted the range. “I saw him moving that way a little while ago.”

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Kateri glanced toward where she was pointing. _My eyes are good, but I can’t see him_ … _not from this angle at least_ … _that might be the point?_ Between the trees, plants growing wild across the ground, and Clinton’s not exactly loud coat color … and the distance … trying to pick out a person on the hillside was next to impossible. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Barnes grinned, and Hana snorted, amused.

Kateri turned away and headed towards the indicated hill. Burrowing herself further into the depths of her two jackets, she wished for the gloves that she had forgotten in the car. _At least it’s not any colder than it is_. The hillside was steep and tall and probably gave a good overlook of the entire range complex, which was probably why her partner had headed over there … _if he is here somewhere_. There seemed to be some sort of man-made stuff on top of the hill, but Kateri couldn’t see enough over the crest of the hill to even make a guess at what that stuff was.

 _I really should have brought my gloves_. Kateri wished a few minutes later as she picked her way up the steep hillside. Not knowing if there was a less steep path elsewhere and not wanting to risk her partner going down one side while she went up another, Kateri had taken what appeared to be the shortest path and gone straight up the hillside. The brush was somewhat thorny and caught at her pants, but Kateri pushed on nonetheless, cursing under her breath as she climbed. She stumbled a couple of times, catching herself with her hands before she could faceplant. _Ouch, that bloody hurts_. The thorny plants scratched at her hands— _maybe this wasn’t the greatest of ideas_ —but it didn’t seem to be anything that soap and water, hydrogen peroxide, and maybe a couple of Band-Aids couldn’t fix.

_My boots were not made for climbing a hill quite this steep._

Clinton appeared as Kateri approached the crest of the hill and extended a hand to help her up the last few, especially steep feet.

“Please tell me you found something, and I didn’t climb that bloody hill for nothing,” Kateri exclaimed, gratefully taking the proffered hand.

There were man-made things on the crest of the hill, as she had thought. What the two partners were standing on was not really a road— _at least, I wouldn’t call it one_ —but it was paved, and there was a retaining wall a little way further up the hill. The location gave an excellent overview of the whole range complex.

 _Perfect place for a mass shooting_.

“I did, and you didn’t,” her partner replied, gesturing toward the corner of the pavement that was closest to the crest of the hill and best overlooked the range, “From the location of the bodies, the way they fell, and the angle of entry, I’m 95 percent sure Weitzen shot from here.”

The pavement would have made it harder for Clinton to judge for sure, Kateri knew. _Another thing I know from having a sniper for a partner._ It was much easier to tell where a sniper shot from him when he was on natural terrain, not unnatural pavement. When there was actual dirt and grass or other shrubbery around, one could look for foliage or grass burned by the gun’s muzzle flash, waffling in the dirt, branches broken by the weight or movement of a body, etc. _On pavement, you basically have zilch … unless you’ve got a shooter dumb enough to not clean up after himself._ And some crooks were dumb enough to forget to clean up their spent brass.

“Good sight-lines,” Kateri noted, “Rather steep angle, though. Not a shot I’d want to make, but I’m not a sniper.”

 _By any stretch of the imagination_.

_The farthest I’ve ever shot anything is … what 60 yards? And that was on a range._

“Weitzen is good,” Clinton agreed and then added dryly, “Your hand’s bleeding.”

 _Bloody h**l_. Kateri had thought about it as she finished the climb and then promptly got distracted by their conversation. The pain from the scratches/scrapes on her hands would have been negligible and easily ignorable on any other part of her body, but there were so many nerve endings in hands that even small injuries hurt worse. _Paper cuts, case in point_.

“Thanks.” She pulled a bandana out of one of her pockets and wrapped it around her right hand, which was more cut up than her left, and then stuck both hands into her pocket. Her left hand only had actual scratches and scrapes, which _actually do bloody sting now that I think about it_ , but there were a couple of actual shallow cuts on her right hand.

Clinton gave her a half-smile, “The equipment clerk have anything helpful?”

_Ehhhhh, debatable._

“The catalyst for the shooting was over ammo, or so it seems, believe it or not,” Kateri replied, shaking her head in near-disbelief, “Weitzen wanted one particular kind of ammo for his MOA—equipment guy doesn’t even know what that means…”

Clinton raised an incredulous eyebrow, “He works at a gun range.”

 _Yeaaaaaa, which makes it all the more ridiculous_.

“That’s what Kenny said,” Kateri rolled her eyes, “There was a bit of an argument. Weitzen ended up going away with other ammo, promising to show the equipment guy what he could do, and presto, one mass shooting.” _Don’t tick off snipers. Good life advice._

Clinton shook his head ruefully.

“Barnes and Hana got a hold of the security tapes. They were still looking through it when I headed up here to find you.”

Her partner nodded, “Thanks, kid.”

Clinton went back to studying the view, and Kateri looked around for lack of anything else to do for the moment. There was not much to see from the hillside besides trees, more trees, yet more trees, the gun range, and the lake, which was nice.

Within another ten minutes the others arrived at the top of the hill, having found a less steep and less plant-mobbed path than either she or Clinton had, _judging by the snags and dirt on his pants_. As requested, Kenny had brought up her partner’s sniper rifle— _the one he uses most frequently_ —a Remi 24, and Barnes came bearing the fruits of the security footage search.

Clinton shouldered his rifle— _his unloaded rifle_ —and sighted down the scope, doing a dummy reenactment of the shooting as Barnes listed off the victim’s locations, “Parking lot and then what?”

_Always amazes me how fast you can move._

“The equipment counter, and then to the firing range, to the left of the shed, and then to the right,” Barnes replied, reading off from her notes.

Kateri watched her partner work from her place next to Kenny. She was a fair shot with a rifle and had gotten much better in the last few years under her partner’s tutelage, but _Clinton surpasses us all_. Now and then she glanced up at Kenny. He had been unusually silent since the interview with the equipment clerk, and his silence seemed broody and sullen. _Better keep an eye on you … and out for you_ _. Vet snapping ... PTSS ... much too personal case.  
_

“How much time between the first and last shot?” Clinton asked, lowering his rifle to rest the stock on the ground and glancing back toward Barnes.

“According to the surveillance video, 5.7 seconds.”

_5 shots at 5 widely-spaced victims in under 6 seconds._

_Bloody h**l, Weitzen’s good_.

_But we knew that already._

“5 shots, moving targets with that spread, that guy’s a h**l of a shooter,” Clinton replied, clear respect for the other sniper’s skill in his voice, “Fast and accurate.”

_His skill’s impressive._

_His targets … horrific_.

“He hit all those targets, except the guy that p***ed him off?” Kenny wondered.

“The equipment guy?” Clinton replied, “That was the easiest shot, and he didn’t take it.”

“Maybe he ran out of time?” Barnes mused.

 _5 targets in six seconds, I doubt it_.

Jess shook his head, taking a step closer to the hillside, “I don’t think so. He did exactly what he said he would: a demonstration of what a sniper can do.”

_I hate it when the bad guys are true to their word in this type of scenario._

“The clerk’s alive because Weitzen wanted to show him how skilled he was,” Jess finished.

_Really scary when the bad guy’s just playing with you._

Hana, who had been off a way talking on her phone, came up behind them, “I spoke to one of Weitzen’s gun-range buddies, a Lieutenant Sclera. He runs group-therapy for vets in Mansfield. Some of his members served with Weitzen.”

 _Well, that makes it easier to start trackin’ down his old unit buddies_.

The team had finished on the hillside, and there was nothing else to do at the range, so it was time to get a move on. Daylight was quickly fading, and the bus should have reached Cumberland by now anyway. Kenny and Jess would go speak with Sclera and the others later that evening, but the group therapy meeting was not for another two-and-a-half-hours so there was time for dinner and more work first.

The side of the hill that faced closest to the parking lot was somewhat less steep than the side facing the range. _Wish I had noticed that earlier!_ Kateri was the last in line down the hillside a couple of feet behind her partner. Though the grade was less steep, getting down without using her hands to steady herself or for balance was harder than she judged. _My hands have been abused enough already. Can’t shoot if I can’t hold my gun, either_. Clinton was forced to turn and steady her twice when her feet slipped.

Kenny and Hana along with Barnes and the boss packed up and headed out back to the bus, but Clinton needed a couple of minutes to put his rifle away so Kateri decided to take the chance to patch up her hands while she waited. There were two first aids kits in the cargo space of the SUV: a regular kit for run-of-the mill injuries and a second for the-mission-just-went-FUBAR injuries. While Clinton repacked his gun case in the backseat, Kateri put up the trunk and, perching inside, grabbed the regular kit and pulled it close, unlatching the lid with her left hand.

That was where things started getting troublesome.

There was gauze, Band-aids, Neosporin, and hydrogen peroxide among other supplies in the kit. Large lids she could manage— _if they’re not bloody stuck on_ —with one hand. _Pin the bottle between my knees, and then it’s easy_. The same couldn’t be said of the packaging for the bandages or the wee tiny lid on the Neosporin container. _Bloody h**l_.

 _Think I might need some help with this_.

Clinton was still putting his rifle away, so she wasn’t going to interrupt him. Instead, Kateri turned her attention to removing her makeshift, temporary bandage on her right hand—her bandana—to see how bad the cuts and scrapes were.

That was where things got even more troublesome.

The thorny plants and the sharp rocks had cut into the palm of her hand in three places. As the wounds had clotted and the blood had dried, her bandana had ended up stuck— _almost glued_ —onto her hand. Even just tugging slightly at it, trying to loosen it, _bloody hurts!_

 _And I’m not the rip the band-aid off and get it over with type either_.

Kateri swore under her breath.

“Problem?” Clinton called from the backseat.

 _My bloody … literally … bandana is stuck to my bloody … literally … hand_.

“Can you bring me my water bottle, please?” Kateri called back. _Thank goodness I bought two when we stopped for gas last_.

There was the sound of a gun case being snapped shut. Then a car door shut. Footsteps. Another car door opening and shutting, and then Clinton appeared from the other side of the car. His gaze took in the first-aid kit, the bandage wrapped around her right hand, and the couple of shallow scrapes on her left hand.

“My bandana’s stuck to my hand,” Kateri explained with a sheepish smile, “and I can’t manage all this with only one hand.”

Clinton gave a sympathetic wince, “Need some help?”

“Please.”

Clinton’s hands were gentle as he carefully soaked the bandana and worked it off the wounds. He didn’t get frustrated when Kateri flinched or half-instinctively tried to pull away at an especially sharp stab of pain. His grip on her hand was just firm enough to keep it steady, and when Kateri half-pulled back, he’d let go instantly and only restart when she relaxed and moved her hand back. _He always done this ever since we had that long talk last year_. Kateri had to turn her head away when it came time for the hydrogen peroxide. The sting of the fluid was fierce, and she had to bite her lip to keep from doing something undignified like whimpering.

“Easy. Almost done,” Clinton’s voice was gentle.

Three Band-aids (on her left hand) and one piece of gauze (on her right palm) later, Clinton was finished.

“Too tight?” He asked.

Kateri shook her head, “No, it’s good. Thanks.”

_Still hurts, but that’s to be expected after you were a klutz._

_Get some IB back at the bus once you have something to take it with._ Kateri couldn’t dry swallow pills without choking, and her partner had used all of the water bottle unsticking the bandana and washing off her hands.

“Can you still use your gun?” Clinton asked, taking a step back to give her room to hop down from where she had been perched, legs hanging over the edge of the trunk.

 _That’s the question of the hour_.

“Let’s see,” Kateri drew her 19, the sights on which he had fixed in the car, from its holster on her left hip, grip loose, and extended it to her partner, muzzle towards the ground, “Can you unload it? I’m not testing this with a loaded gun.”

 _That would just be completely moronic_.

Clinton took the gun from her and quickly dropped the mag and ejected the round from the chamber, putting both aside so that they wouldn’t get lost. Kateri took her gun back from her with her left hand and adjusted her hand into the right position for a one-handed shooting grip. _Pulls a little, aches a little, but definitely works … not that I’d feel anything hyped up on adrenaline._ A one-handed grip with her right hand hurt but worked ... kinda. _My grip doesn’t feel quiet as solid. Back-up plan_. A regular two-handed grip worked also. _Feels steadier_. Working the slide release was easy. _Fingers aren’t scraped, thankfully_. Racking the slide with her right hand also hurt a lot but worked. _And no new blood on the gauze … yet_.

“Hurts if I use my right hand too much, but I can still shoot,” Kateri finally replied once she had run through all the usual motions and grips.

_That’ll teach you not to forget your gloves again._

Grabbing her mag and the extra bullet, Clinton automatically loaded the bullet back into her mag. _I would have just asked him anyway_. Kateri had a strong grip, but trying to get the final round into an almost fully loaded mag without the aid of a mag loader was usually beyond her.

Once her gun was reloaded and back into holster, Clinton asked, “Ready to go.”

“Ready.”

* * *

Kenny and Jess left for Mansfield, Massachusetts, after dinner to speak with Sclera and the other vets at that evening’s meeting at 7:30pm. They returned to the bus around 9:30pm with mixed news.

Lieutenant Sclera had last seen Weitzen two days before at the funeral of a Danny Macula— _one more name to research_ —in Boston. Sclera had tried to speak to Weitzen, but Weitzen had left before Macula had even been buried. The two ( _which two?_ ) had overlapped on deployments overseas, and Sclera had been stateside when Weitzen had finally returned. Although the sniper had tried to put up a good front, he had faced deep struggles with PTSS— _I know the feeling_ —which was especially concerning because their unit had lost seven members to suicide in the last three years. _Bloody, bloody h**l_.

_Must be a kick in the gut for Kenny._

Not unsurprisingly, the other veterans at the meeting who had served with Weitzen in the past had not been overly willing to talk. Despite his horrific actions, he was still their brother. _Sounds like my relationship with Billy at some points_.

The others confirmed that Weitzen had not talked to anyone at Macula’s funeral and added that the two had been close friends. _Finally, a little more info on this guy_. Macula’s death had hit Weitzen very hard. Macula had been badly injured during his last tour and bedridden because of his injuries. Weitzen had visited Macula weekly to check on him and spend time with him.

One of Weitzen’s fellow snipers had also stated that Weitzen was not going to contact anybody else. Invisibility was a sniper’s greatest strength. _And calling a lot of people just blows your cover_.

* * *

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodman%27s_Neck#NYPD_firing_range

[2] Mohawk. Thanks. https://kanienkeha.net/grammer/partcle/niawen/

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darwin_Awards

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murders_of_Chris_Kyle_and_Chad_Littlefield


	2. Monday, November 4: Day 2

The team worked late into the night before finally heading off to bed. On account of not wanting to climb the bunk ladder with her scratched-up hands, Kateri handed off the spot in a real bed she won drawing straws to one of the others and bedded down beside her partner on the floor. It seemed like she hadn’t been asleep all that long at all when, some hours later, a hand on her shoulder shook her awake. It was her partner kneeling by her side.

“BOLO came back with a hit. Found Weitzen’s car,” Clinton said as an opening, “We’ve got to move.”

The hand on her arm had woken Kateri from the hold of a strange dream, the wisps of which were already fading from her memory. She felt quite groggy when she first opened her eyes— _I did NOT get enough sleep, but what’s new?—_ but at Clinton’s words, Kateri was instantly wide awake. _Adrenaline has its uses!_

“Where?” Kateri asked, pushing her jacket off of herself and rolling smoothly into a crouch. A quick glance at her watch showed that it was just past 7am.

The others were rousing and moving as the two spoke, and Clinton moved backwards to allow Hana room to pass. “Norton, Massachusetts,” he replied.

 _That’s not far from where his mother is_.

* * *

It was a twenty-minute drive from the bus’ location to the location of Weitzen’s car, which meant that there was enough time to eat a granola bar in the SUV and drink the coffee Kenny had made for everyone. Due to the extreme danger that Weitzen posed, the cops who had spotted the car were told to keep their distance and just watch the car for any signs of movement. _Let’s not increase the body count past five_.

Weitzen’s car was parked in a small parking lot next to a small building, the sign for which was a little too far away for Kateri to make out. There were a handful of other cars in the parking lot, but there was no one moving. _Thankfully, just in case Scott’s in there._ The watching cops had not seen any signs of movement since the car had been discovered, but that did not mean Scott wasn’t in the car. _Could be asleep_. _T_ wo police cars were parked nearby, one on either side of the driveway but a little way up and down the street to be less immediately obvious. Only one road let into or out of the parking lot.

 _Scott’s car, thankfully, isn’t the off-road type either_.

_Scott could probably clock the cop cars quickly if he was looking for them, but they’re not immediately obvious._

The agents drove up without lights and sirens— _no tipping him off, if he is there. No shootouts please_ —stopped the cars a little way off, and then moved forward on foot, guns drawn. The six of them quickly cleared the car. Weitzen was gone, but most of his stuff … _at least his personal stuff_ … remained. _All his guns are gone though. We couldn’t be that lucky, and he couldn’t be that dumb_.

Then it came time for one of Kateri’s least favorite parts of her job: searching through a car full of junk to try to find clues. Kateri and Clinton took the trunk, Jess and Hana the back seat, and Kenny and Barnes the front seat. _That it’s raining only makes this yet more fun_. _Insult to injury, as the saying goes._ The trunk was piled high with goods, all jumbled together, and the sight had made Kateri swear under her breath when Clinton had popped the trunk so that they could clear it.

 _Bloody h**l_.

 _Better get to it_.

“Talk about methane emissions,” Hana grumbled from the backseat a couple of minutes later, “Would it hurt him to air out his sleeping bag once in a while?”

_Ewwwwwww_

_Didn’t need to know that._

Kateri carefully sifted through the piled-high contents of the trunk, trying to not bump her partner or knock anything she was moving into him. Weitzen seemed to have piled an assortment of everything into his trunk with no thought toward organization. Balanced on top of the pile there was exercise equipment, a heavy winter blanket, a rug of some sort, a shower curtain, a medium size cooler, and various other assorted stuff. _And this is a decent size trunk, and we’ve not even gotten to the bottom yet_.

“Got an empty pill bottle,” Kenny announced suddenly from the front, “No label. Likely street meds.”

 _About a gillion places one can get those_.

Jess had sat down inside the back of the car and was starting to read off … something, “Mother of Sorrows, who held Jesus in your arms, inspire use to travel without faltering along that road that leads to true peace.”

_Okkkaaayyyy_

_I’m Catholic, and I’ve not heard of that before_.

More rummaging through the trunk revealed little of value, but the others seemed to be having more success.

“Scott found a few bumps on that road,” Hana replied dryly emerging from the backseat with some sheets or clothes or something in her arms, referencing the prayer Jess had just read off.

_Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_

Jess said something more, but his voice was drowned out from Kateri’s position at the trunk by other ambient noise.

“I don’t think there’s anything of use here,” Kateri noted as an aside to her partner.

Clinton nodded, “I’m not seeing anything either.”

 _There’s so much stuff here that it’s hard to see it all, but from the types of things he has … this wasn’t the spot where he kept all his papers and pill bottles_.

 _ERT can sift through everything in detail once this gets towed_.

“Talk about Murphy’s Law,” Barnes suddenly said from the passenger side door. _Oh, bloody h**l, I hate Murphy’s Law_. “The VA rescheduled Scott’s psych evaluation four days ago due to a backlog in insurance compensation.”

_Of course, they did._

“VA, day late, a dollar short,” Kenny noted dryly from the driver’s side.

_Can the VA do anything right or well or quickly?_

“When’s it post-stamped?” Jess asked, climbing from the backseat.

There was the sound of papers being rustled, and then Barnes replied, “The day before the shooting. Sent to his mother’s place in Stoughton. Would have taken a day to get there.”

 _Oh, the irony_. Kateri muffled an instinctive curse a moment later when some of the trunk junk shifted and nearly smushed her fingers. _Banged up my hands enough for a while_.

Jess took the papers from Barnes’ hand, studied them for a minute, and then remarked, “I think it’s time we pay a visit to Lieutenant Weitzen’s mother.”

* * *

It was almost 8am exactly when the team arrived at Mrs. Weitzen’s house in Stoughton. The house was an older one on a medium-size lot that abutted onto a forest. The neighborhood was a sleep one, and the only signs of life at 8am were from the cops watching the house.

The fact that the VA letter had been sent to Mrs. Weitzen’s place but had been found in Scott’s possession meant that the sniper had made a trip back to his mother’s home recently. _Probably since the shooting recently_. How they could have gotten past the cops was yet to be determined.

Barnes, Hana, and the boss went inside to speak with Mrs. Weitzen, while Kenny headed off to speak with the watching cops. _To see what the h**l they’ve been doing._ Clinton seemed intent on looking around outside before going inside, so Kateri shrugged and headed off to follow him.

It had been raining lightly most of the night and all morning, and the ground and grass was soft and squishy. The weather was almost ideal for finding fresh tracks. _Less ideal for having to move around in or being out in_. Her shoulders hunched against the breeze and the rain, Kateri kept her attention split between the ground, as she looked for any tracks or unusual signs— _I know the basics of tracking now_ ; her partner, who was doing the same thing— _just a lot more expertly_ ; and their surroundings, unobtrusively.

_Weitzen’s good._

_If he was here recently—yesterday or today to get the mail—he could still be here._

_I’d rather not be next on his kill list_.

The first few minutes of searching revealed nothing on the right side of the house and more searching revealed nothing at first at the back of the house, but then suddenly Clinton, who was a few yards ahead of Kateri and a little nearer the tree line, called back to her.

Her brain possessed the words automatically, but it took a second for her to realize that he had spoken in Mohawk.

Not English.

“Fresh tracks,” Clinton’s tone was light and untroubled, and his body language was unchanged. _And obviously fake to anyone who actually knows him_.

Her undercover experience served Kateri well, and she didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t jump, didn’t make a face at her partner’s disconcerting words. She only called back an acknowledgement in the same language, matching his tone as she asked if he saw anything else. To anyone listening they could have sounded like they were talking about any meaningless topic.

_We could be talking about the weather just listening to us._

_Those could be Mrs. Weitzen’s tracks, but have to assume they’re Scott’s._

_Have to assume we’re being watched_.

_I’d rather not get shot today._

Clinton finished his slow examination of the area, acting visibly as if he’d found nothing, and then turned back toward the house and his partner. “Let’s go inside. We need to tell the others.”

Once the two were inside, Kateri first and Clinton last, the voices of their teammates led the two partners to the others. Kenny had also seemingly just returned from his mission and was relaying a firm rebuttal from the cops that they’d left their posts or that Weitzen had been there or could have even possibly gotten past them.

 _And you’re probably about to be proved suckers_.

Mrs. Weitzen was sitting at the dining room table, her back toward the back door as well as toward Clinton and Kateri. Her hair was mussed, and she was wearing what looked like a bathrobe. _It is only 8 o’clock. We must have roused her out of bed._

“Mrs. Weitzen, have you been out back this morning?” Clinton asked for confirmation.

“No," the older woman replied, voice shaky.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Clinton and Kateri exchanged looks, and then the sniper informed Jess of their find, “We found fresh tracks in the mud.”

Jess glanced toward the large bay window right next to the table— _too much exposure_ —and then asked, “Mrs. Weitzen, please come with us.”

With wary glances toward the windows, the agents moved out of the dining room, Hana taking Scott’s mother to a less exposed area. The others returned to the back door, carefully keeping their backs to the wall, carefully not exposing themselves in front of the glass more than necessary. Clinton was first in line and, taking a monocular from his jacket pocket, peered back out the window toward where he and Kateri had been searching a few minutes before.

“Along that tree line, there’s a woodpile. I saw two birds raised up,” Clinton said after a moment, turning back toward Jess who was next in the line along one wall.

Jess moved up to look. It only took him a second, “Yep.”

 _Bloody h**l_.

* * *

The obvious next target was that woodpile and Weitzen’s previous/current hiding spot. The team split up again. Barnes, Hana, Jess, and Kenny headed out the front door, and Kateri and Clinton took the more exposed exit out the back door. The two ducked low as they reentered the yard, trying to keep their profile low and as unexposed as possible.

 _Our Kevlar won’t do zilch against a .308 like Weitzen was using yesterday_.

Between gloves and adrenaline— _won’t be forgetting my gloves again anytime soon_ —Kateri didn’t even feel the pull of her scratches or the ache in her hands as she followed on her partner’s heels.

 _Archange Saint Michel,_ _[1]_

_défendez-nous dans le combat._

The two did not head directly toward the woodpile, which would have been insane, but headed straight into the woods at an angle, so that they could circle back around and come at Weitzen’s possible location from behind.

_Soyez notre protection contre la méchanceté et les pièges du diable._

_Que Dieu le censure, nous prions humblement_

Every small crack of a branch, every rustle of dead leaves made Kateri wince internally.

_et que Toi, Prince de l’Armée céleste,_

_par la puissance divine de Dieu,_

A rustle behind her made her jerk around, gun coming up, but it was only Jess, who had appeared out of nowhere. Kateri had thought he had gone out the front with the others. _Bloody h**l. I could have shot you!_ Her heart felt like it had jumped into her throat. Clinton had turned back instinctively at her movement, but once everyone realized there was no danger, they kept moving forward.

_pousse en enfer Satan et tous les mauvais esprits_

_  
qui errent à travers le monde à la recherche de la ruine des âmes._

Without further incidents, the team reached the woodpile but found nothing. If Weitzen had been there, he had disappeared within the last few minutes. This was his territory, his woods, and he knew it a whole lot better than the agents did. _His turf. He’s got the advantage._ A plastic bag as well as a few other pieces of detritus were on the ground next to a spot cleared from leaves, but no Weitzen.

 _He’s gone. Bloody h**l_.

While the others covered him and kept scanning the woods, Clinton knelt by the spot where Weitzen must have been lying up until … _very recently, as in minutes recently_.

“Damn,” Kenny swore under his breath.

 _My thoughts exactly_.

“Probably been out here over night,” Clinton spoke a moment later, pressing one hand to the earth, “Lying in his own urine.”

_Ewwwwww_

_Want a new pair of gloves?_

“Waiting for us,” Jess added.

_Double bloody h**l._

_We were being watched earlier_.

 _We’re not dead. That counts for something_.

_We’re not dead, because he chose not to take us out._

_B_ _loody h**l._

“Picked up his mail,” Jess continued, lowering his gun and looking around, “Dumped off the car in Norton. Put the letter inside the house to bring us back out here.”

“Then why didn’t he shoot us?” Barnes asked.

 _Good question._ Kateri gave a shiver that was only half from the morning chill. She had moved half-behind a tree like Kenny had done and kept on scanning the woods. Just because Weitzen had left his overnight haunt didn’t meant that he was not still nearby … _still watching us. And isn’t that a scary, creepy thought?_

“He’s showing us how good he is,” the boss replied.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Clinton rose from his crouch, “And he is damn good.”

 _High praise coming from you_.

“He left mud tracks so we knew he was here?” Kenny asked.

_He’s playing with us._

The boss articulated as much verbally a moment later. “He’s testing us to see how good we are. Let’s not let him down.”

_I’m starting to wonder who’s hunting whom …_

* * *

The team retreated from the woods, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. There was nothing more to be done there for the moment, so they returned to the bus, which had been brought up from Cumberland, a thirty-minute drive away. Jess would put out a call to get aerial and thermal scans of the area, but the team did not need to be present at Mrs. Weitzen’s house for that.

_Weitzen’s gone._

_Talk about one jump ahead_.

It was a quarter past 9 by the time the team returned the bus, and everyone scattered to their various searches. By 9:45 the results of the scans had been sent over.

“Aerial, thermal imaging came up with nothing,” Kenny concluded and summarized to the others after studying the footage quickly but thoroughly, “Weitzen’s really ghosted.”

Kateri, who had taken a seat on the bench along the back wall next to her partner, looked up from the tablet in her lap. _Are we surprised by this? He’s been one step ahead of us all the way so far_ , _which is bloody scary._ The really smart, crafty criminals were the worst to deal with and the most dangerous to hunt.

“Those drones were up twenty minutes after we found his nest,” Barnes noted. There was a thread of almost disbelief in her tone.

Clinton shook his head, “You learn in sniper training how to hide from thermal. Weitzen could have soaked a camo blanket in a cool puddle and gotten under it.”

 _Now that’s definitely a useful skill to know_.

The look on Jess’ face during this discussion was mildly scary. “We underestimated him.” He almost growled, “Myself included.”

 _Rare we have a target of Weitzen’s caliber._ Weitzen took smart, crafty criminal to a new level.

Hana appeared from the other end of the bus, “Got the results from the pill bottle in his car. Residue of bupropion.”

_Bu what?_

_Never heard of the stuff._

_And I know the names of a h**l of a lot of drugs_.

“An addictive anti-depressant, also known as the poor man’s cocaine,” Hana finished.

_Okkkaaayyyy_

Something in Kenny’s face drew Kateri’s attention and spiked a note of worry in her mind. He had looked over as Hana first appeared and seemed to be about to speak, but at the mention of “bupropion,” his face had grown dark and then gone blank, and he was now studiously studying his hands in his lap.

 _I’ve got a bad feeling_ _about this_.

“Addictive, we find Weitzen’s drug connection. Maybe we find him,” Jess stated before glancing over at Kateri, “Do you have any contacts that could be useful?”

Kateri hesitated for a moment, biting her lip as she made a face and thought over the question, but finally shook her head, “I did some work in Massachusetts but never this far east. I know a few people with ties to the drug trade in Boston, but I don’t think they ever deal in this bupropion drug. I can check, if you want, but I don’t think it’ll do any good.”

Jess nodded, “We’ll keep that for a backup plan.”

_Cocaine dealers, I know a couple._

_Oxy, heroine, pot, some of the stuff that’s as likely to kill you as make you high, know a few of those dealers, too._

_Fake cocaine, nope_. _Not that I ever recall hearing._

“Symptoms of abuse,” Kenny spoke quietly out of nowhere, as Barnes and the boss started to get up from their chairs. _Really don’t like that tone in your voice_. “Dry mouth, insomnia, aggressive behavior.”

_And you know this how?_

Kenny looked up, “I think I might know someone who knows where Weitzen scores.”

_How exactly?_

Jess seemed to be following Kenny’s train of thought, and the two headed out quickly, leaving the others puzzled and looking at each other in confusion in their wake. _I think we’re definitely missing something._ Kateri wondered if that someone was connected to their visit to Lieutenant Sclera the previous evening, since _that’s the only time they’ve been off by themselves without some of us around to have a clue what in all the bloody blue blazes they’re talking about_.

* * *

Jess and Kenny returned within an hour-and-a-half with news, a name, and an early lunch. They had returned to Mansfield to speak with one of the vets from Lieutenant Sclera’s group therapy thing, a Lenn Rivard. Having been on the drug himself, Kenny had clocked Rivard and his symptoms the previous day and, after the new intel about Scott’s bupropion addiction, figured that the two had the same supplier.

_Kenny was on that stuff._

_No wonder he could rattle off that symptoms._

The name Rivard had given for his and Scott’s supplier was a Corporal Slate Palmer. The team ate lunch and then moved onto other work, as they attempted to track Palmer down.

Kateri grew more and more concerned as the first couple hours of the afternoon ticked by while the team waited on a hit on Palmer. Kenny had been on edge when he and Jess had returned from Mansfield. _Almost a little twitchy like we both get on bad days_. There was that look on his face like when his temper was high— _very high_ —but he was making a valiant effort to bite it back and check his words.

_Army vet with PTSS_

_Struggles with the same drugs_

_Consequences of drug addiction on vets … suicide, among other problems_

_Can’t be easy on him._

_Case is turning into a let’s-see-how-many-of-Kenny’s-trigger-points-we-can-hit-at-once one._

Evening had fallen by the time Palmer was located by the state police and brought to the bus. The corporal was a big man, strongly built with bulging muscles and multiple tattoos, and with a less than pleasant look on his face about the interruption to his day. He was the type of man that made Kateri have to remind herself to not take an instinctive step backwards.

The team gathered at the rear of the bus as Palmer was gently encouraged— _insert dripping sarcasm_ —to take a seat by a hefty state police officer. His bag was handed off to Kenny and Jess who were on the other side of the rear compartment, and Clinton, Barnes, and Kateri gathered in the doorway. _Or rather, they’re in the doorway, and I’m looking over their shoulders. At least, I’m not as short as Hana, or I wouldn’t be able to see over their arms._

 _Ah, well, the joys of being short-ish_.

“Let’s see what you’ve got in here,” Kenny said in a flat-ish tone, starting to look through Palmer’s bag. Seconds later, he pulled out plastic packs of drugs, “Bupropion.” A little more rummaging, and Kenny pulled out an orange pill bottle, “Oxy?”

Palmer just sat there in dead silence and looked at Kenny and Jess. _This guy gives me the creeps_.

More rummaging, and Kenny emerged with a small plastic bag full of rifle bullets. _Can’t tell what caliber from this distance. Why are you carrying around just bullets?_ “What are these? Party favors?”

Palmer tilted his head but still said nothing, just continuing to stare flatly at Kenny and Jess. The look on his face was … _unpleasant._

“We can make all this go away, Mr. Palmer,” Jess said, speaking for the first time since Palmer’s arrival. _Yes, but I kinda hope we don’t, not with this dude_.

That finally drew a response out of the big man. “Corporal Palmer,” he snapped.

Kateri was nearly facing Kenny straight on, and she saw the look in his face, his eyes sour and harden at that untimely comment. _I think that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back_.

“No, uh, no,” Kenny replied, tone sarcastic. His temper was still under control … _for the moment_ , but his hold on his tongue was starting to loosen. “All this disqualifies you from holding any rank in my army.”

_Keep it together, Kenny!_

Palmer did the weird head tilt thing again. _Dude, you are creepy._

“What we’re really interested in, Mr. Palmer,” Jess continued, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, “is a client of yours, Scott Weitzen. We suspect he’s been in touch with you to fill a prescription.”

“Prescription?” Palmer snapped, a hint of incredulousness in his tone, “Let me enlighten you, errand boys. Our government got people like me and Cyclops addicted to those little babies.”

_Errand boys for what? Or rather whom, maybe?_

Kateri again was forced to stamp down her old instinctive reaction to flinch or step backwards at that tone of voice, and she glanced over at Kenny, checking on him. _Fiery tempers feed fiery tempers. Like adding gasoline to a fire_. His jaw was clenched, and his arms were folded across his chest. _Keep it together!_

_Got you addicted, Palmer? So, you have no control over your own actions and choices, huh?_

_Pass the buck, is this?_

_Yea, drugs are a dark, deep quagmire to get out of once you’re in deep, but you had choices in the beginning, even later on._

_There’s help, rehab._

Palmer was still ranting, “And those pills, they are the antidote.”

_Which pills are the ‘they,’ the oxy?_

_Because bupropion can’t be the antidote for itself?_

_Antidote for what, anyway?_

_For PTSS?_

Kenny rose to his feet and took a step toward Palmer, “These pills are the antidote?” He pointed back toward the drugs he had pulled from Palmer’s bag and set aside, “These ones right here? These pills are the antidote!!??” His voice rose in pitch and fervor, and he slapped one hand down hard on the table, knocking the pill bottle off and sending it flying into another corner of the room.

The leash on his temper had finally snapped.

And now Kateri really did flinch. _Bloody h**l_. Clinton tensed but kept still, seeing that Jess had remained in his seat.

Kenny leaned over Palmer, “How many of our brothers and sisters have reached the bottom of those pill bottles and then overdosed on these, huh?”

_Too, too many._

_One’s too many._

_They sacrificed for our country, and this is how it ends for 'em?_

_It’s not right._

Kateri suddenly realized that it was a bullet that Kenny was now holding in his right hand and shaking in front of Palmer’s face.

“How many??!!” Kenny shouted.

Palmer just sat there and looked at him flatly.

“I’ve lost five friends to these!” Kenny’s eyes were shiny.

_Oh, Kenny!_

_I never knew!_

“Kenny, sit down,” Jess ordered, voice quiet but firm. “SIT DOWN!” His voice was less quiet the second time when Kenny didn’t move.

_Come on._

_Sit down, Kenny, before the boss loses it, too!_

Finally, Kenny stepped slowly backwards, returning to his seat perched on the desk.

“Scott Weitzen,” the boss’ temper was obviously fraying, too, from his tone-of-voice, “how do you get in touch with him? Where do you meet him?”

 _The rest of today is going to be just lovely with those two on edge_.

“I. Am. Not. Snitching on Cyclops,” Palmer finally replied in a low growl, “You created him. You deal with him. Lawyer!”

_We created him?_

_So, the FBI is at fault for all the problems that the US Government has had a hand in, seriously?_

“Get him out of here,” Jess instructed Clinton.

Palmer was led away outside, and Kateri moved up into the doorway beside Barnes. Once the door had closed with a snap behind him and Clinton, Jess rose from his seat and rounded on Kenny, anger clear in his face.

“I don’t want to have to keep yankin’ your chain! Understand?” The boss snapped, before making for the doorway. Kateri and Barnes took hasty steps backwards to let him pass.

“Yea, boss,” Kenny muttered.

 _Poor Kenny_. Kateri gave him a sympathetic smile and then returned to her seat opposite Hana. The best she knew Kenny’s anger management issues stemmed largely from his PTSS, and those latter struggles Kateri understood all too well. _Talk about mood swings. Bloody hard some days to be decent company._

Jess started making his tea, but his every movement was too loud. He russtled through the cabinet for his tea bags too loudly, closed— _slammed?_ —the cabinet too hard, thumped his honey bottle down on the counter too hard. _Pot, kettle, black, boss? Maybe you need some extra honey today, and it’ll sweeten your temper_. The latter was something Kateri would never have dared or dreamed to say out loud, but in the silence of her head she could opine and mutter to her heart’s content.

Kenny emerged from the back of the bus, came up the aisle, and then slumped into his seat beside Hana with a sigh, and Kateri glanced back over her shoulder with a concerned frown.

“Those breathing exercises I showed you, they helping at all?” Hana asked Kenny quietly.

_Wouldn’t have expected you as the breathing exercise type._

_Pounding the pavement until you calm down, yes_.

“Yea, a little,” Kenny replied, voice rough.

“Give them a chance. If they don’t work, we can try something else.”

Their conversation was quickly broken off, when Jess finished making a tea and stepped over to lean against the wall next to their desks, his face grumpy. _Hovering over us like a gargoyle doesn’t help us work any faster, boss_. Kateri turned back to her own work.

Hana actually had an update, though, “I tracked Palmer’s phone calls and locations the past four days. There’s just the one outlier—a burner call yesterday and then a drive to South Brockton to a self-storage place.”

 _Brockton, where’s that? … Nice, only fifteen minutes from here_.

* * *

The sky had grown fully dark by the time a SWAT team had been assembled and the team was on its way to Brockton. Hana had stayed behind to run comms from the bus, meaning that the rest of the team could pack into one SUV. Barnes was driving. Jess was in the passenger seat, and Kenny, Clinton, and Kateri were all packed into the backseat. The only reason that packing them all into the backseat actually worked was _because this is a short drive … thank goodness_ _… and I’m comparatively small._ The backseat was still quite cramped as it was. _Probably would’ve worked better if I was in the middle_. That, however, would have been a recipe for claustrophobia trouble, and Clinton had taken the middle, leaving his partner and Kenny, who was still on edge, the window seats.

After warehouses, it was probably self-storage places that Kateri loathed clearing the most. Indoor centers were worse than the outdoor ones— _and thankfully this is an outdoor one_ —but both were still bad. The narrow hallways or narrows rows as well as the confined spaces of the storage containers themselves funneled the agents and inhibited movement in case of attack. And all the metal surfaces only increased the risks of ricochets.

Thinking about the dangers of self-storage places nearly sent her mind toward thinking about the dangers of warehouses and why she hated anything to do with warehouses. Kateri ruthlessly squashed that line of thought before it could go any further. _Not now. Not the time. Not having a panic attack over that._ Now was the time to focus. She needed to focus. The others needed to focus, and given that her right arm was pressed up against her partner’s left arm, if she made any physical reaction whatsoever, he was going to notice. _And we need to focus_.

SWAT’s armored van— _basically looks like an armored personal carrier to me_ —and the SUV approached Weitzen’s storage unit from opposite sides. The SWAT officers poured from their van, and the team exited their vehicle, keeping behind the open doors for cover. Kateri was first out from the backseat, and she took two steps backwards to give her partner space to get out.

A SWAT officer with a pair of bolt cutters cut the lock on the door of Weitzen’s unit and then moved aside.

Two other officers raised the sliding door, keeping their bodies out of the possible line of fire as much as possible. _No idea if Weitzen’s here or not_.

The door went up, revealing the half empty storage unit—metal shelving, ghillie suits on the wall, guns, a sleeping bag—and the agents poured forward to clear the unit, Kateri at her partner’s side.

“Watch out for traps,” Barnes called a warning.

 _No kidding_.

The storage unit was small, and it took only moments to clear. Weitzen was absent. _Bloody h**l_. Someone called the all clear.

Next to Weitzen’s sleeping bag, three sniper rifles were leaning up against the metal shelving that held various cases, gallon jugs of water, MREs, and various and sundry other things. Kateri lowered her gun, switching it to a one-handed grip, and unobtrusively flexed her right hand. The protection of the gauze on her right hand and her good gloves helped, but her hand ached, and she thought she felt a hint of wetness on her palm. _Blood or sweat?_

Clinton lowered his gun to his side and raised his tac light in his other hand to illuminate the rifles. “He’s got taste.”

_Yeaaaa._

Further back in the unit where Kenny was, there was a thump of a metal container being opened, and then Kenny commented dryly, “Talk about sniper comfort food.”

 _Talk about a claustrophobic’s nightmare._ The only reason Kateri could stay inside the unit was because the door was open. _If I got trapped in here with the door shut, panic attack for sure_.

Clinton turned to look at the ghillie suits on the wall, and Kateri stepped back to make sure that Jess, who was moving slowly through the unit, roving gaze taking everything in, had enough room.

“He’s filled this place with things that make him feel safe,” Jess mused, “Guns, ammo, food, and God.” His tac light illuminated a crucifix on the wall.

_I’d call this bare survival._

_I’d want a few more things before I felt safe_.

“That about sums up my tour,” Kenny put in.

 _Ugh_.

There was nothing more to be seen within the unit so everyone started to step back outside. Kateri felt herself relax once she was no longer within the confining walls of the metal box.

“Have the surveillance video pulled ASAP,” Jess ordered.

“On it,” Kenny replied.

The words had barely exited his mouth when a shot rang out and one of the lights illuminating the row of storage units exploded in a shower of sparks. _Bloody h**l_. Everyone ducked instinctively, and shouts rang out, “Shots fired. Move to cover.”

Everyone scattered, bolting for cover. Jess ended up back inside the storage unit. Kateri and Clinton had nearly been abreast of SWAT’s armored car thing, and they ducked down behind the front bumper, flattening their backs against it and keeping their heads down.

_Where’s Kenny?_

Another shot rang out, and Kateri barely restrained a flinch. Her heart was pounding in her throat. Kevlar did zilch against a high-powered sniper rifle. _Not our rating of Kevlar, that is_.

_It’s Weitzen. It’s gotta be._

_Who else would be taking pot shots at us?_

“Anybody see a POS?” Jess’ shout rang out.

_In this lighting? At this distance?_

_There’s no cover anywhere near here for him_.

Another shot rang out.

Clinton pulled a monocular from his coat pocket and tried to peer through it in the direction the shots were coming from while still keeping himself covered. _Bloody h**l. Don’t get your brain blown out, partner._ Barnes, who was on Kateri’s left side, and Kateri herself both had their guns drawn, _not that they’ll do much against a sniper rifle_.

“He’s gotta be on that hill to the east,” Clinton shouted back after a moment.

Another shot rang out, and another light several units up went dark in a shower of sparks.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Kateri risked a look above the edge of the bumper. _Can’t see anything. No muzzle flashes. No nothin’. Too far._

Another shot rang out. Another light went out, though with every ambient light that went out, the easier it was to make out some details as their eyes adjusted.

Various other shouts rang out over the field, mostly from SWAT.

“You have eyes?”

“Who has eyes?”

“Got no visual.”

“See him?”

More shots rang out, and Kateri in the heat of the moment had lost track of how many shots had been fired. Not that counting did much good in this case. Counting shots when one’s opponent had a revolver or even some semi-auto handguns was one thing. When he had a sniper rifle, instead, it didn’t do much good. _Can have big mags with a rifle, and you can’t close the distance while he’s reloading like you can with a guy with a pistol at close range._

“Anything?” Jess shouted from within Weitzen’s storage unit.

 _Zlich_.

“Negative,” Clinton shouted back, his head and shoulders now exposed above the edge of the armored van. _And you say I give you grey hairs??!!!_

“Anybody hit?” Jess called.

There was a quick series of negatives from Barnes, then Clinton, and then Kateri, but then for a few seconds there was silence. _Where’s Kenny? I lost track of him. Is he hit?_ _Bloody h**l!_ For several seconds, no reply came from Kenny, wherever he was. Barnes and Kateri exchanged fearful glances. _Bloody h**l_.

“Crosby??!!”

Finally, Kenny’s answering shout rang out, and Kateri felt like she could breathe again. “Yeah, I’m good.”

_You’re good, but you just nearly gave me a heart attack!_

No shots had rung out for nearly fifteen seconds, and finally the all clear was called, and everyone emerged from cover.

“I want people sweeping that hill now,” Jess snapped off the instruction.

The SWAT commander nodded, commenting, “Lucky for us, he was off target.”

 _Part of me really doubts that_.

“It was a warning,” Jess replied, stepping forward past Clinton and Kateri, a few feet closer to that hill side. His voice went up in volume, “Next time, no more games.”

_Weitzen’s been one jump ahead all day._

_He could have killed us twice today._

_Bloody h**l_.

* * *

SWAT swept the hill where Weitzen had been shooting from and found nothing, and soon the team departed back to the bus in Stoughton. The ride there was completed in silence. Everyone was still coming down from the adrenaline high of nearly becoming the next several victims on Weitzen’s hit list.

It was past 7pm by the time the team reached the bus. Everyone was tired and hungry. Finally finding Palmer and then the discovery of Weitzen’s storage unit had derailed plans for dinner before they had barely begun.

Plagued by a pounding headache, at least partially from the explosion of gunfire, Kateri was slow climbing from the back of the SUV. _I’ve only been up for twelve hours, but this day has just gone on forever_. She moved around to the back of the SUV and started undoing the straps that held her body armor in place. Her hands felt a little clumsy, though, which she blamed on the combination of her gloves, the bandages on her hands, and the stiff Velcro, _which is always a pain to deal with_.

Suddenly, fingers snapped a few inches from her face, and Kateri, who had been looking down, intent on undoing her vest, jumped and looked up. Her partner had been faster out of the car and faster unkitting and had stepped away to speak with Jess. Now Clinton had reappeared by the SUV without Kateri ever noticing him move.

_Bloody h**l, you scared me._

Her sudden jump made her partner blur into two Clintons for a split second, and Kateri pinched her eyes shut against a wave of dizziness. _The only thing worse than adrenaline crashes is adrenaline crashes and low blood sugar_. A hand caught her elbow as she wavered, and then fingers snapped again in front of her face.

“Hey, hey, kid,” there was a thread of fear in Clinton’s voice, “Look at me, look at me.”

Her forehead pinched slightly with pain, Kateri forced her eyes open— _only one Clinton again_ —and met his eyes. She knew why he was worried. _Thinks I might have been hit again._ Four years earlier the team had been in a very similar shootout, and Kateri actually had been hit, but because of adrenaline, she hadn’t realized it until later when she had taken off her jacket and Kevlar and Kenny had started swearing a blue streak.[2] She still had the scar on her side from that hunt.

_Reply, you idiot._

_Don’t just think about doing it._

“I’m okay,” Kateri replied after a long moment.

She had hesitated too long, and she couldn’t blame her partner for the skepticism tinged with fear in his eyes. _Why do some of the main symptoms of adrenaline crashes, low blood sugar, and blood loss all have to be the same??_

One of the others called over a query that Kateri didn’t catch, but Clinton’s reply, “Checking,” made her wince. _Oh, my head. I need Tylenol._

“Come on, kid. Sit down,” Clinton’s focused attention was back on her. His hand was still on her elbow, steadying her.

Kateri took a step backwards until her legs touched the bumper and then set down on the edge of the SUV’s trunk. “I’m fine,” she protested, “I wasn’t hit.” Her hands went back to the Velcro of her vest. _Work better without gloves and if you take your coat off first._ She suddenly realized her hands were trembling.

“Humor me,” his voice was flat.

Clinton helped her take off her coat, unfasten the Velcro on her body armor, and lift her vest over her head. (Looking past him, Kateri noticed that Jess and Barnes were some distance away talking, their heads bent together. _Why didn’t they go inside?_ Kenny, however, had approached half-way and was watching, face creased in concern.)

 _I’m fine._ Kateri knew that protesting further or repeating her attestations of her own health were useless so she didn’t even bother. Once her vest was off, she pulled the zipper on her dark fleece jacket— _that I can manage easier_ —down so that her grey turtleneck was revealed and pulled her jacket away from her body long enough to show that there were no blood stains on her shirt. _Not like before_.

“I wasn’t hit,” Kateri repeated, “I’ve got a horrible headache from the gunfire, and I haven’t eaten anything since lunch. Except for that, I’m okay.”

Her partner finally relaxed, and his face cleared, “Don’t scare me like that, kid.”

 _Not like I do it intentionally_.

Kateri gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

Clinton turned, saw Kenny watching them, and called him over, “Can you make sure she gets inside and gets a soda?” Kenny nodded, and Clinton turned back towards his partner, “I’ll come check on you in a little bit.”

“Okay.”

Annoyed by her own weakness, Kateri zipped up her jacket, grabbed her coat, and carefully got back to her feet … very slowly … _easy does it_ … wary of getting dizzy again. _Tylenol and some food, and you’ll be okay_. Kenny was watching her closely and had drifted within arm’s reach, probably in case he thought he might need to catch her. _No, I’m not going to faint and collapse like a ditzy princess._ Her pride wouldn’t allow that.

“Need a hand?” Kenny asked quietly.

“No, I’m alright,” Kateri replied.

Kenny scoffed, “Like h**l you are, not if Clinton’s fussin’ like that. You might not be about to drop dead, but that’s a sorry definition of ‘alright.’”

 _Not much one can say to that_.

_One advantage of having brown skin ..._

_It doesn’t show so much when you go red as a tomato_.

“Adrenaline crashes and low blood sugar look a whole lot like shock,” Kateri muttered, hunching her shoulders against the cold. She was tired and hungry and headachy and just wanted to sit down where it was warm. “Last thing he wanted was a repeat of four years ago.”

“Last thing any of us want,” Kenny corrected, getting the door for her.

_Least of all me, because getting shot is just bloody awful._

Kateri sighed as a wave of warm air hit her as the two entered the bus.

Hana looked up from her desk, relief in seeing them clear on her face— _can’t imagine having to listen to all that over comms. She would have heard every shot, every order_ —but the relief quickly turned to concern, “What’s wrong?

“I’m fine,” Kateri tried to say, but Kenny talked right over her, as he pointed her toward a chair, “Adrenaline crash and low blood sugar.”

In a show of entirely too much energy, _just not fair_ , Hana bounced up from her seat, heading for the fridge, “There’re sandwiches for you all in the fridge.” She returned a moment later carrying a bottle of Dr. Pepper, which she held out to Kateri after undoing the lid.

 _Ugh. At least it’s sugar._ Kateri wasn’t a big fan of Dr. Pepper, but _beggars can’t be choosers_ , and the sugar would help beat back the low blood sugar until she could eat.

Tugging off her gloves and setting them aside, Kateri took the soda with her left hand and returned her right hand to her jacket pocket. _No blood like I thought there might be_. “Thanks. Could someone get the Tylenol or the IB for me?”

 _I know there’s a bottle in one of these cabinets_.

Hana grabbed it for her and then returned to her laptop and her work, but Kenny took the seat next to Kateri that Clinton usually occupied. Kateri opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t need to be babysit, but at a half-fond glare from Kenny, she closed her mouth with a snap and shook out the medicine she needed. _If fussing over me distracts him, I guess that’s a win._

* * *

By the time the footage from the sweep of the hill, the ballistic reports, and the weather data had arrived an hour-and-a-half-later, everyone had time to sit down for a few minutes, eat dinner, and get something to drink. Application of food and Tylenol had beaten back Kateri’s headache as well as the other physical symptoms, and she was feeling much better. _And once I didn’t look nearly ready to drop, Clinton stopped fussing._ There was part of her that liked the fussing but part of her that felt the need somewhat embarrassing. _Wasn’t exactly my fault this time, though. Didn’t have a chance to eat. Not like I forgot again._

With the new footage and reports at hand, an impromptu briefing began. Most of the team stood, gathering around one of the large screens on which the footage from the hill sweep was playing. Kateri, who was feeling better but still tired, dragged over a chair, instead.

“He was over a half a mile away, 140 feet up, wind blowing sideways at 18 knots, and no spotter, and he still made five shots on the money,” Clinton summarized. To Kateri, he looked and sounded a cross between impressed, troubled, and bothered.

 _And yes, the last two are different_.

_Only five shots. I could have sworn it was more, but it was chaos there for a minute._

_18 knots, that’s about 20 miles-per-hour. Bloody h**l_. _Not sure I could hit a barn door in that wind_.

“He’s just a man with a gun,” Jess cautioned, “Don’t let him get under your skin.”

_A man with a gun who is really, really, bloody good at what he does._

“Who turned the tables on the people hunting him,” Barnes noted, “Namely us.”

 _And more than once in one bloody day_.

“He’ll make a mistake, and when he does, we’ll be there,” Jess replied.

 _Hopefully he’ll make that mistake before his body count goes above five_.

“He might save us the trouble,” Hana broke in, rising from her desk and motioning them all over, “Look at this. This is from the storage place an hour after the shooting at the gun range.”

Muffling a tired sigh because her partner was still within hearing range and _he’s had to worry about me enough today_ , Kateri pushed herself to her feet and followed the others over to Hana’s desk. She had brought up security camera footage of what looked like a waiting area on one of the other screens. An agitated Weitzen was seen moving about the room, leaning heavily on the table, hitting the table. Suddenly, he drew a handgun from beneath his jacket and stumbled backwards into a chair, pressing the gun tightly to his head, shoulders heaving with the force of his breaths. _Bloody h**l_. After about 10 seconds of that, his attention was drawn by something else, the expression on his face changed, and he slowly lowered the gun. _What in all the bloody blue blazes is going on with this guy??_ Weitzen got to his feet and moved out of the picture frame behind a wall, and the footage ended.

“Whatever he was looking at,” Barnes noted, “It saved his life.”

“TV,” the boss added slowly, “There was a TV hanging on the wall. Find out what was on it.”

* * *

[1] <https://stfaustina.ca/prayer-to-st-michael-the-archangel-prire--larc>

[2] Explained fully in the future side-story, “Grey Hairs, Reason #23.”


	3. Tuesday, November 5: Day 3

Sleep did not come quickly or easily that night for Kateri. The team worked for several more hours after that impromptu after dinner briefing before finally calling it a day and heading off to get some sleep. Barnes and Clinton had drawn the straws for the beds, not that Kateri minded. _Not sure I want to be climbing ladders with this hand_. Her right hand was still sore from earlier so she was just as happy to make her bed on the floor and was too tired to care anyway about not getting a bed. _So tired I could fall asleep in my chair._

Makeshift beds were spread on the floor, the lights were soon shut off, and everyone settled down to sleep. Opposite Kenny, Kateri lay awake for what seemed like a while staring at the ceiling … despite how tired she felt. _I hate it when I’m so tired that I almost can’t sleep_. Kenny seemed restless, too, shifting around and around and around multiple times before his breathing finally evened out and he fell asleep. It was usually easy to tell when he was asleep. The snoring started.

_It was a hard day for all of us, Kenny especially._

_Cases with veterans are always the worst for him._

_And this has some really personal angles for him, too._

_And we nearly became Victims #6-11 … twice._

_Bloody h**l. Weitzen’s been playing with us all bloody day._

_Almost a bloody miracle we’re not dead._

Eventually, Kateri too drifted off, but she slept lightly and roused briefly most every time that Kenny, who also slept very lightly when his PTSS was a problem, shifted. His dreams were troubled, and Kateri was forced to reach across the aisle twice to shake Kenny awake from a nightmare and, the second time, promptly had to duck away, flattening herself to the floor, as he startled awake violently but somehow near silently.

Kateri’s dreams were dark, as well. The day’s events had been trying and too similar at times to events of the past. Her dreams shifted between visions of their encounters with Weitzen turning out less well—visions of her teammates falling with blooming wounds in their vests or skulls blown apart by sniper fire—and memories of the night, the fear of a repeat of which had roused Clinton’s concern that evening. When she finally jolted awake about 5:30am after banging her hand against the cabinet, her side aching in sympathy from her dreams, Kateri decided that just sitting up and staying awake sounded like a better plan than trying to sleep more.

_I’ve gotten enough sleep to make it through the day._

_And I’ve had enough nightmares for one night._

_And, bloody h**l, my hand’s bleeding again._

_That’ll have to wait until everyone’s up, or I really will wake everyone this time_.

Leaving her duffle where it was, Kateri grabbed her leather jacket and her boots and tiptoed further down the bus as quietly as she could until she found a quiet corner to sit and browse the internet on her phone until the others were awake. _One nice thing about the bus as opposed to houses and apartments, no creaky spots on the floor. Just got to make sure you don’t run into a chair or something in the dark._

Kateri was not that surprised when about twenty minutes later Kenny also started to rouse, judging by the sudden lack of snoring and sounds of movement, and soon thereafter appeared around the corner into her little nook. His eyes were shadowed, and he looked about as awake as she felt. _We need coffee_.

Kenny gestured with his phone in his hand, typing something quickly, and then a few seconds later, her phone signaled that she had an unread text. _Glad I’ve got this thing on silent_. *Insomniac’s Club Meeting?*

 _Today, I think it’s more like we don’t want to sleep, than can’t sleep, but …_ *Sure*

Kenny gave a relieved smile and sat down across from her, stretching his long legs out besides hers. *Thanks*

A second later, a second text came, *Sorry about coming up swinging at you.* Kateri looked up and across, and Kenny gave her a sheepish smile.

_Not sure I would have dignified that as an actual swing._

_You weren’t awake enough for that._

_More like flailing._

*Don’t worry about it. You missed, and you can think of it as repayment for the couple of times you’ve tried to wake me up and I took a swing at you.*

Kenny gave a grin at that, _only a little forced_ , and mimed his shoulders shaking with laughter. *You can’t sleep?* He texted back.

 _Can sleep. Tired of dreaming_.

 _Sometimes the routines of nightmares with this job … is a real drag_.

*Dreams,* Kateri sent back and then added in a second text, *Too many ways yesterday could have gone FUBAR bad, and the end too like before.* Once she saw Kenny had gotten the second text, she tapped her ribs just above her left hip.

In the light of his phone screen, Kenny went a shade paler. She knew that he remembered that day as well as she did, as well as the others did. _Hence my partner’s somewhat dramatic reaction last night_.

_I wasn’t expecting to take off my jacket either that night and suddenly notice my side covered in blood. I never noticed until then, and then … it hit me smack in the proverbial face._

*Don’t ever do THAT again,* Kenny sent back with a very aggrieved face.

_He was the one who saw it first last time._

*Wasn’t intentional the first time!!*

 _Getting shot is an extremely unpleasant, painful experience I want to experience as few times as humanly possible_.

There was silence—no typing fingers—for a few minutes, before Kenny finally texted back, *My tours. That’s why I lashed out.*

_Wait, what?_

_…_

_Oh, you were dreaming about your tours._

*And my friends…*

_The ones who died there._

_Or …_

_The ones who killed themselves here._

Kateri reached across to pat his leg with her left hand, keeping her right hand in her lap. _Blood on the gauze hasn’t gotten any bigger_. *I’m really sorry, Kenny, about your friends. It’s an awful situation for all of you. Palmer’s a creep.*

*Yeaa*

_There are cases for all of us that hit too close to home for us for various reasons._

_They’re the worst._

_Like the case with Wilkins for me and Barnes last month._

There was silence again for a few minutes. One could only have so much of a deep conversation texting back and forth and silently making faces or gestures. _We could go outside … if we wanted to wake the others_. The bus was well kept up, but the doors weren’t that silent. The others could sleep through some people noises— _someone shifting_ —even some mechanical noises, but a door opening would be unusual, and someone would probably rouse.

Finally, Kenny picked his phone back up off where he had balanced it on his leg and texted, *What’s wrong with your hand??* He gave a pointed look at Kateri’s hand that had remained unmoving in her lap.

_Even when it would have been less awkward to pat his leg with my right hand, not reach across with my left hand, even though I’m left-handed._

_Okkkkaaayyyy, you’re more awake than I thought_.

*Cut my hand on those thorny weeds/grass at the range yesterday, and then hit it while I was dreaming.*

One eyebrow went up, and he scowled. *How did I not notice this?????* He made a gimmee gesture, and Kateri proffered the injured appendage.

*You’re bleeding!*

_It’s a couple cuts, not a bullet wound, Kenny!_

*Because I hit my hand,* Kateri texted back. _Glad I’m good at only texting one handed anyway_. *It’s fine. I’ll get some fresh gauze once the others are up.*

_Getting the first aid kit now would definitely make too much noise._

*How did I not notice this?* Kenny repeated just with a few less question marks.

_Because this is a crazy case?_

_Because you’ve been having problems of your own to worry about?_

_Uh, not telling him that one_.

*Because the last two days have been crazy? And Clinton helped patch me up before we came back to the bus.*

A look of understanding— _a light bulb moment_ —crossed Kenny’s face, *That’s why you took so long getting back.*

The conversation meandered from there to lighter topics, since there were no distracting movies to watch or video games to play. By the time the others started to stir around 6:30am, Kateri was extremely glad that she had an unlimited texting plan on her personal phone, _or I’d be paying so much money about now._

* * *

It was late morning when the next lead came: the explanation for the mysterious security footage the previous night, the explanation for what Weitzen had seen on the TV that made him change his mind about blowing his own brains out.

Everyone was gathered in the bus, heads bent over their own respective tasks. Suddenly, there was a crow of delight from Hana’s direction, and the tech analyst bounded up from her chair— _definitely much too much coffee_ , “Got it.”

_Got what??_

_Can you share some of that energy you’ve got?_

_Oh, wait, you were searching for the TV footage._

Everyone looked up at her crow of delight and followed, walking over or rolling their chairs overs, to gather around one of the large TV screens. Hana pulled back up Sunday’s security footage from the storage center waiting room, the same footage that she had played the previous night. Also, in a smaller window on the same screen she then brought up footage from a local news station announcing the shooting at the Diamond Hill Shooting Range. Sinking the time-stamps, Hana let the two pieces of footage play through side by side.

Kateri watched closely and noted with interest that Weitzen’s eyes reopened and his attention was drawn away from blowing his own brains out when the reporter lady stated his name on the news footage. _Okay, that’s interesting_. When the reporter started describing his career, the gun actually came away from his head. _Very interesting_.

Hana paused the footage as Weitzen started to push himself to his feet. “That’s what stopped him,” she reported, “He saw himself.”

_Narcissism?_

“Maybe because the whole world sees you now,” Jess mused, pushing away from the wall and stepping towards the TV, “A man who was invisible during his service …”

_So, did he feel abandoned/forgotten and decide not to pull the trigger when he got recognized/remembered?_

_Or did he not pull the trigger because he had been seen?_

_Was the seeing … in his mind … something good or bad?_

Kateri let her eyes flick over towards Kenny as Jess spoke. Kenny was rubbing the knuckles on his left hand and starring idly at the TV. _Starring through it into space_. _Your hands ... n_ _ervous tick? Don’t recall seeing you do that before … Hmmmm …_

“And ignored after his service,” Kenny added. _Definitely taking this personally. Can’t blame him though._ His hands were still fiddling. “Just another damaged vet.” _Which is just not right_.

_Isn’t fair, but life just isn’t fair some days._

“Despair would have been building as he watched his friends suicide around him,” Jess continued, taking a seat at the table around which the team had gathered, “Shooting would have released that pressure, and now he’s in no-man’s land, hovering between destruction and self-destruction.”

_Talk about a morbid way of stress relief._

_I like going to the range, but I’m shooting targets, not people, for heaven’s sake_.

 _Destruction and self-destruction, and that’s a nasty rock and a hard place to be faced with_.

_Taking out others … or yourself._

“Walking on the edge of the knife,” Kenny added, seemingly half talking to himself. His hands were still moving restlessly, and his gaze was fixed on a random spot on the table.

_I wish I knew how to help him._

“All that pressure builds back up,” Kenny’s voice was rough.

Kateri, who was sitting between her partner and Barnes, looked down at her hands, realizing she had started fiddling with her watch again. _Nervous tic. Sometimes think I’d have to sit on my hands to keep ‘em still._ After her kidnapping and her struggles with her own PTSS, she understood to some extent in some ways what Kenny, what Weitzen were struggling with. _But in other ways this is so far beyond my comprehension._

 _I never had to watch as my friends lost the will to live, lost the fight against despair and took their own lives_.

_Never had the struggles with drugs, the stuff that’s supposed to help you … and it just drags you deeper._

“Would you like to tell everyone what that would be like for Scott, as a veteran?” Jess asked.

_Don’t push him, boss._

_Can’t you tell he’s struggling?_

_Is that really going to help?_

_…_

_Maybe, actually, talking helped me a lot … but about kinda different things._

_Up to Kenny_.

Kenny himself finally looked up, shook his head, and forced a caricature of a smile, “Come on, boss, they all know what it’s like. It’s like this job.” He glanced over at the others and then back at Jess.

“Can’t be the same,” Barnes replied, “I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Yea, me, too,” echoed Clinton and Kateri at the same time.

_Our mind-meld occasionally has special use._

That, at least, drew a small smile from Kenny, but he was silent for a long moment, eyes flicking around and around the room, hesitating, before he finally began, “In the field, they train you …”

_Disassociation._

_Wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve done it_.

Kenny sighed and restarted deliberately, eyes flicking over to Kateri, who forced a small smile _that hopefully looked comforting_ , “They train me to fight and also to be ready to die.” His eyes went back down to boring holes through the table. “To prepare me to forget about dying, but never quite could.”

 _Survival, one of our most basest instincts_.

Kenny was silent for another long moment and then shifted in his seat so he could lean his arms on the table, “Whenever one of my buddies was killed, my anticipation built. It was …”

_I can’t imagine what it must have been like overseas._

_I thought my life was bad at some points_.

Kenny paused, rubbed one hand across his jaw, “okay … it’s my turn now.” His voice was rough, “It was like jumping into a pool and waiting for the cold water to hit. My body clenched up …” He paused again, “But I never hit the water …”

_How do you even begin to deal with it?_

_Sword of Damocles hanging over your head._

_A little like some of my worst undercover days, I guess._

_Always waiting for the other shoe to drop._

“And the pressure kept on building,”— _Like a pipe that’s about to burst_ —“And now in the field you do all the things that keep you safe: keep your buddies close, your weapon, your armor, and that helps keep things manageable.”

_Definitely sounds like a couple of my worse undercover ops._

Kenny shook his head and continued doggedly on. “But out here, in the real world, you don’t have that safety, you have that training about dying. That pressure, anxiety, and if you don’t know how to deal with it, it just turns into panic,” he paused, “Or addiction or five dead bodies on the gun range.” His eyes flicked over to the footage on the TV.

Kenny fell silent, and there was a long, somber, solemn silence that hung over the bus like a pall until Hana’s tablet began to buzz loudly. Kateri flinched slightly at the unexpected noise.

“It’s Scott Weitzen,” Hana suddenly said, “He broke into a visiting nurse’s agency last night in Brookline.”

_A nurse’s agency? Why?_

_If you’re hurt, I wouldn’t go there_.

“The police report says he rifled through patient files. The only files missing pertained to a Daniel Macula.”

_Macula, wasn’t he the dead guy that you two mentioned Sclera mentioning?_

Kenny’s head snapped up, “Macula? That’s the funeral Scott attended before the shooting.” _Yea, what’s the connection though? Coincidence or something more?_ “One of his battle buddies.”

* * *

The Macula family lived in Quincy, Massachusetts, a populace suburb of Boston along the Massachusetts Bay. Realizing that there might be more to the connection between Scott and Macula than previously thought, Jess, Kenny, and Barnes departed to speak with his surviving family after lunch. They returned mid-afternoon with interesting news and new stuff for Jess’ goody box.

Weitzen and Macula had met on their first tour of duty overseas and subsequently reupped together. Mr. Macula had noted that the two would have said that they were each other’s lucky charms. _Didn’t work out so well for ‘em, did it?_ After Danny had been bedridden, he had spent the last year of his life in a hospital bed on the main floor of his parent’s house until he had hoarded his pain killers until … he had enough to overdose on.

Though he did not connect the two events, Mr. Macula did wonder if Scott felt guilty in a way for Danny’s death, since he had stopped visiting Danny only two weeks before his suicide. _Why?_ Had Scott blamed himself for his friend’s injuries? Had he known what Danny was planning on doing? It wasn’t clear.

The last contact Mr. Macula had with Scott occurred just days before Danny’s death. It had not been—and here Kenny quoted the older man directly—“a warm and chatty phone call”—either. Scott had wanted a copy of the last photo that had been ever taken of the two friends together. Interestingly, Scott had wanted a copy of that photo specifically, not of any of the many others of the two together.

_And an interesting photo it is…_

_Look at the way that nurse is looking at Macula…_


	4. Wednesday-Friday, Nov. 6-8: Day 4-6

After the stress of the first three days of the case, Wednesday dawned quietly and passed quietly. Talking seemed to have done Kenny some good, and though Kateri woke several times at slight noises or shifts from the others, he seemed less noticeably plagued by nightmares, and thankfully so was she. _Hate it when my brain conspires against me._ Breakfast was a quiet affair, and then everyone turned back to their work.

_One of the worst things about a sniper is when you can’t locate him._

_That really, really goes for when he’s shooting at you._

_Also goes for when you’re trying to find him, and he doesn’t want to be found_.

* * *

Late morning, Kateri was sitting at her desk working on her laptop and trying to stay awake. _Sometimes sitting at your desk not moving is as tiring as running around chasing leads._ The team was extremely short on leads on Weitzen’s current location, and Jess had assigned her to checking out anything and everything that came in through the tip line. _My least favorite job, and the one that’s most sleepifying, but one I really don’t need two hands for either_. Her right hand had been aching more since she had banged her palm during her nightmare the previous night. She could still use it— _and thankfully I didn’t hurt it worse so I need stitches_ —but it hurt, and her hand spent most of its time resting in her jacket pocket.

Mutterings from Jess’ direction slowly drew Kateri’s attention away from her laptop screen and the endless succession of useless tips and back toward what the others were doing. “Mother of Sorrow. Mother of Sorrow.”

 _Still never heard of that prayer before_.

“Do you have the Macula file from the nursing agency?” Jess asked coming down the bus toward where Hana was sitting.

“What are you looking for?” The tech-genius asked.

Kateri rolled her chair half-way across the aisle next to Kenny’s chair so that she could see what had drawn Jess’ attention. It was the same photo of Scott and Danny with the red-haired nurse in it that they had gotten hold of the previous day.

“I’m looking for her,” Jess replied, pointing toward the nurse herself.

_Yea, the way she’s looking at Danny’s a little weird in my view, but what’s she got to do with all this mess?_

“The visiting nurse?” Barnes’ face was just as puzzled, “What about her?”

Jess pulled off of his glasses, attention fixed on Hana’s screen, “Maybe he doesn’t want to just be looked at but looked after.”

_Looked after …_

_Somewhat disturbing coming from him._

It took Hana only moments to find the woman from the picture and bring up her file on the screen. “Christina Naylene. She was Macula’s nurse for two years and then was reassigned three weeks before he died.”

_Okayyyyyyy …_

_Very odd timing._

“She stopped visiting Macula and a week later so did Scott??” Jess’ voice was almost incredulous. He turned back toward the conference table and all the collected clues about Scott scattered over its surface.

_That’s a lot of weird coincidences all in a row._

“Maybe Scott had a thing for the nurse?” Kenny wondered.

_From the way she was looking at Danny, I’d wonder if she had a thing for him._

_Maybe I was misreading the photo_. _Considering my number of boyfriends over the last ten years, which I can count on the fingers of one hand with fingers left over, I couldn’t call myself the expert on deciphering those kinds of looks._

“I don’t think it’s that,” the boss replied, “I think he perceives her as someone who can heal and comfort him.”

“That’s not at all creepy,” Kateri muttered.

Kenny gave an agreeing snort and then added, “Someone who can save him.”

“The nurse,” Barnes noted.

 _Not sure if that’s weird or understandable_.

_Nurses are supposed to help people, but still …_

_That sounds like an ethics/code of conduct violating waiting to happen … depending on what exactly the ‘healing’ and ‘comforting’ involve._

“It’s what his instincts are telling him, and he’s running on nothing if not instinct,” Jess had returned to Hana’s side. He paused, closed the file in his hand, and then reached down to grab the tablet on which the photo was displayed, “That’s his next move … to find her.”

_If he thinks she can help him, at least we don’t have to worry about her being added to the body count._

_…_

_Unless he snaps._

_…_

_People have done a lot of horrific things unintentionally in the depths of PTSS problems._

Grabbing his jacket from by the conference table, Jess called back to Hana, “Send the nurse’s schedule for today to our phones.” With that he departed in a hurry with Kenny and Barnes following in his wake, leaving Hana and Kateri alone in the bus. Clinton had left not long before to make a coffee and lunch run. The two women looked at each other for a long moment and then turned back to their respective tasks.

_Finally, another possible lead._

_Snipers might jump to the top of my list of least favorite people to hunt_.

* * *

Twenty minutes later there was a noise outside, the bus door reopened, and then Clinton reappeared, his arms full of stuff. _How on earth did he get the door open??_ He set the coffee trays down by the microwave and then the bag of food pinned under one arm.

 _Yay, time for a break._ Kateri felt almost cross-eyed after looking at tips all morning and was glad for a chance to do something else— _anything else_ —and rest her eyes for a few minutes. _And move!_

“Where are the others?” Clinton asked, looking around in surprise at the empty bus. _We were all here when you left._

“Headed out twenty minutes ago. Possible lead,” Kateri replied, rising from her chair. She took a half-step back quickly to give Hana room to scoot her chair back _without running over my bloody toes!_

One eyebrow went up. “From what?”

Lunch and coffee were handed out, as the two women explained briefly the recent developments and the conclusions Jess had drawn from the picture gotten from Mr. Macula the previous day. Just after noon, shortly after they had finished eating, Kateri’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.

It was from Kenny, *Nurse has had no contact with Scott. He avoided her at the funeral. She left because reassigned by VA. Boss assigned constant surveillance. You and Clinton up first. I’ll take over at 8pm for night-shift, and then we’ll do 12 on, 12 off.”

_Bloody VA in their bloody infinite wisdom!_

_12 hours shifts, bloody h**l!!!!_

* * *

Wednesday afternoon and all-day Thursday passed quietly, and nothing interesting or helpful happened. Kenny traded off with Clinton and Kateri watching the nurse, and the two partners spent many long hours spent sitting on a house or tailing a nurse, which _is one of the easiest tails I’ve ever done. Could almost do this in my sleep_.

Friday morning—the morning of the 8th, which was going to be a much less pleasant day for Clinton and Jess—dawned early. Hana and Kateri had won the beds for the night, and Hana had kindly taken the top. It was still dark in the bus when Kateri awoke but seemed too quiet without Kenny’s presence. She lay in bed for a few minutes coming too and then quietly pushed the covers aside and sat up.

_Good. It’s only 6:00. Don’t need to replace Kenny until 8am._

_Plenty of time for prayers, including for Angelyne._

Kateri quietly pulled her Crucifix out from under her shirt and, kissing it, moved into a cross-legged position on the bed. If she moved about too much, she would wake the others, but she could pray silently until it was time to get breakfast before she and Clinton had to leave.

_Au nom du Pčre et du Fils et du Saint-Esprit. Amen. **[1]**_

The motions and prayers were familiar and came easily to her but were nonetheless heart-felt and sincere.

_Je crois en Dieu, le Pčre tout-puissant, créateur du ciel et de la terre._

_Et en Jésus Christ, son Fils unique, notre Seigneur qui a été conçu du Saint-Esprit,_

_est né de la Vierge Marie, a souffert sous Ponce Pilate,_

_a été crucifié, est mort et a été enseveli, …_

The Apostle's Creed flowed into the Lord's Prayer, which flowed into the Hail Mary, prayer after prayer that made up the Rosary.

_Je vous salue, Marie,_

_pleine de grâce:_

_le Seigneur est avec vous;_

_vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes,_

_et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles,_ _est béni._

_Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu,_

_priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs,_

_maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort._

_Amen._

Kateri had just started a second repetition of the Rosary when her partner appeared in the gap of the half-open curtain that separated the bunks from the rest of the bus. _It’s not time to go yet, is it?_ She glanced down at her watch quickly to make sure she hadn’t misread the time. _No, it’s only 6:30._ Clinton beckoned to her, and Kateri nodded. Slipping her crucifix back under her shirt, she grabbed her boots and her jacket— _bag’s by my chair_ —and slipped outside the curtain.

Jess and Barnes were sacked out at the other end of the bus, which meant that Clinton and Kateri could whisper and hopefully not wake them up. _Thank goodness Hana’s a hard sleeper, at least_.

“If we’re both up,” Clinton whispered bending his head toward his partner, “Want to relieve Kenny early?”

Kateri nodded agreement. _I can finish my prayers as easily in the car as in here, since you don’t mind the silence. It’s a half-hour drive anyway._

_The eternal question with so many places in play: where to keep the bus?_

The two as quietly as possible gathered their bags and coats and then slipped outside.

“Can’t sleep?” Kateri asked.

Clinton gave a sad smile, tinged with bittersweet fondness, and nodded, “Thinking about Angie.”

_Yea, me, too. Got to say my prayers for her, too._

_Third anniversary of her death_.

* * *

By a quarter past seven the two were turning onto Tina Naylene’s street in Halifax. The traffic was light, and they had made good time even with stopping at a McDonald’s drive-through for breakfast and coffee. _Bad coffee, but still coffee._

_And for a 12 hour stakeout where I can’t fall asleep, I so need coffee._

_Just sitting and sitting and sitting and sitting almost all day makes me sleepy._

_Makes me sleepy even when I’m getting enough sleep, and late night are routine on these types of cases._

Kateri had finished her second round through the Rosary and said the Requiem aeternam[2] for Angelyne’s soul during the drive, and with application of coffee she felt quite awake and hopefully ready for another long day sitting in the car.

 _It’s a good thing Clinton and I like each other_.

_Glad I never had stake-outs to deal with when I was still in Organized Crime._

_Thomas and I would have killed each other so many times over_.

Kenny looked quite surprised to see them so early as the two cars pulled up alongside each other, “You’re early.”

“We woke-up early,” Clinton replied.

 _That’s half the truth_.

 _Not going to be an easy day for Jess either_.

“She’s all yours,” Kenny replied.

_Who would complain about getting relieved early?_

_He looks bushed._

_Glad we came early_.

_12-hour stakeouts are the worst._

The three parted, and Kenny headed back towards the bus, while Clinton pulled their car to a stop one house down from the nurse’s place but on the opposite side of the street. With the rear-view mirrors they had a clear view of the nurse’s garage and front porch, and they would be less obvious than if they were sitting facing her house for ages. _As we’ve already been doing some_.

_She might be oblivious. Doesn’t mean everyone else is._

_Don’t want an unfortunate meeting with the local police because someone thinks we’re staking out her place to rob it._

_Bloody h**l, that would make for a very interesting day in all the wrong ways_.

“Sierra 1 and 2 in position,” Clinton updated the bus. Their early departure had been noted, and Jess had texted for an update not long before.

Kateri shifted positions in her seat slightly until she was comfortable and started to mentally and physically settle in for a long day’s work. _And possibly a quiet day’s work, too_. Cases at this time of year were always hard for Clinton and Jess. _Too many memories._ In a month that ended with Thanksgiving, neither man had much to be thankful for. _Angelyne. Gone too soon. Only about 5 years older than me. Lost daughter, mother, sister, friend. May she find peace._ All three years running since her untimely death ( _including this year_ ) the team had ended up with cases during that week. _‘Least in 2017 we got back early that afternoon so Tali didn’t have to go it alone the whole time_. Sometimes on long drives or stakeouts during this period Clinton was in the mood to talk, other times to reminisce, yet other times to pass the time in silence. _These days, he gets to choose. Comfortable silence, I’m good with it. Listening to stories about his sister or talking about other stuff, good with that, too_.

The two had been in position only a few minutes when the nurse appeared from her house and entered her car. She pulled down the street past Clinton and Kateri, who pulled out to follow.

“Sierra 2,” Kateri tapped the comm in her ear, “Subject is on the move.”

The two tailed the nurse for an hour until she stopped at a house in Framingham, a city west of Boston and an hour away from her house in Halifax. Kateri jotted down the street address and the license plate of the car in the driveway as they drove past and parked a couple houses down.

Once they were parked, Clinton tapped his comm, “This is Sierra 1.”

Kateri kept half of her attention on the conversation in her ear— _let’s see what Tina’s up to_ —and turned the rest of her attention to the house the nurse had entered, watching for movement or a glimpse of the other residents or of anything suspicious. _Seems like a quiet neighborhood_.

“Go ahead,” Hana responded a second later.

“Subject is visiting a house in Framingham. Can you check that appointment?” Clinton responded.

“Copy that.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Hana’s voice returned, “There’s no appointment on her schedule in Framingham.”

_What in all the bloody blue blazes?_

_That’s … unusual._

Kateri’s eyes went wide at that, and she turned to look at her partner, surprise and puzzlement clear in her features. Clinton’s thoughts seemed similar, _judging by the look on his face_. After years as partners, the two could read each other’s expressions quite well and quite easily … _unless we’re intentionally trying to be inscrutable._

“What’s your address?” Hana asked.

Kateri looked down at the notes she had made on the notebook in her lap— _pen and paper are so much easier for some things, easier than using tech for everything. Don’t have to worry about pen and paper running out of power_ —and rattled the address off.

“Copy that. Backup is coming to speak with the owners. Keep following Tina.”

The nurse stayed at the Framingham house for about forty-five minutes and then emerged and returned to her car. From Framingham, she took I-90E and headed north-west toward Boston. Kateri double-checked the schedule that Hana had sent to her phone.

“Okay, she’s got an appointment in Waltham at 9:30am, so this is her first appointment. Whatever that was, the others can figure it out.”

 _And then let us know_ _what the h**l is going on with this crazy case_.

The two set outside the Waltham house for a little over an hour before that appointment was finished and Tina reemerged. She was just pulling out of the driveway to head off to her next appointment— _11am in Newton ‘bout 15 minutes from here_ —when Clinton’s phone rang. Considering he was driving and couldn’t answer it easily— _shouldn’t either. Forgot to hook phones up to Bluetooth_ —Clinton fished the phone out of his pants’ pocket and passed it over to his partner to answer.

 _Barnes_. _Hopefully an update!_

Mashing the speaker phone button, Kateri answered the call and held the phone in between them. “We’re both here, Barnes. Clinton’s driving.”

 _So, you don’t want him answering_.

“Sorry,” Barnes’ reply came a moment later amidst slamming car doors and other background sounds, “I meant to call you, Kat, but mashed the wrong button.”

_Wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve done that._

_Too bloody many._

“No worries. Update?”

“Yes,” Barnes replied, “The house Tina visited belongs to Josh and Laura Miller. Laura is an Iraq War veteran and, up until six months ago, Tina was her nurse.”

_So why was she visiting?_

“Was this a social call?” Clinton asked, his eyes flicking off the road for a split second.

“Yes and no. Tina pitched it as a social, let’s catch-up visit to Laura and her husband, but,”— _knew there was a but coming_ —“she was also very interested in Laura’s meds … specifically what she was no longer taking.”

 _Oh, bloody h**l_.

Barnes was still continuing, “Tina took back two packs of Fluoxetine, which is a replacement for Bupropion. She didn’t dispose of the medicine. She just took it with her.”

 _Double bloody h**l_.

“She’s helping Scott,” was Clinton’s summation.

 _Looks like it_. _So much for them not having contact_.

* * *

Kateri and Clinton finished up their shift watching Tina’s movements a little early. She had returned home after her last nursing appointment at 4pm, and the two sat down the street watching her house while they ate dinner. _Good thing I haven’t gotten sick of hamburgers. Less messy than some things to eat in the car._ In thanks for relieving him early that morning, Kenny came over at 7:15pm to relieve them, and the two headed back to the bus.

That afternoon, Jess had been attempting to get a search warrant for Tina’s house but had been making little headway. Thus, now that Clinton and Kateri were back, it was Clinton’s problem, as the resident lawyer. _Sometimes, it’s really not good to be the resident expert on X_. Clinton had a friend in the local District’s Attorney’s Office, Aaron Kapner, who got the joys of an 8pm phone call on a Friday night, but after he received a brief summary of the facts, he was NOT onboard with things either.

“If I can’t see probable cause to search this nurse’s house, I sure as h**l don’t think a judge will either.”

_For heaven’s sake, Kapner, have you been listening to a word coming out of our mouths???_

“There’s only one reason,” Clinton responded, “why she would drive an hour out of her way to pick up those drugs. It’s to help Scott Weitzen.”

“Only one?” The lawyer pushed back, “I can think of 10.”

_Such as?_

_But you’re not on the ground here._

_The perspective makes everything different_.

“I’m not wasting my Friday night trying to foist this loser on a judge. If you think Weitzen’s in that house, wait him out. Night.”

_Seriously?_

_Wait him out???? And risk more people dying if he loses it????_

_Brillllllliant thinking._

_This is one of the reasons I don’t like lawyers except for my partner._

“What a lawyer!” Hana exclaimed in annoyance.

“Wait him out?” Barnes added, verbalizing much of what was going through Kateri’s head, “It’s a long weekend. Tina’s going to be that house 3 days with Scott. He’s unstable. Who knows what’ll happen. It could turn into a hostage situation.”

“Unless this lady invites us in to arrest Scott,” Clinton said, shaking his head, “We’re not going in.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jess spoke, “She might invite us in …”

_Wait what?_

Kateri’s head came up and around in surprise. Jess had a very Jess look on his face, which usually meant a very him of him plan was coming. _Oh, bloody h**l. This’ll be interesting_. Now everyone was looking at Jess.

The boss leaned his weight on the table and started outlining his plans, “… if she turns on Scott. I need Lieutenant Macula’s autopsy.”

* * *

[1] <https://www.catholic.org/prayers/prayer.php?p=3287>

[2] <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eternal_Rest>


	5. Saturday, November 9: Day 7

Jess’ plan was straightforward but still very Jess of Jess. The plan was to get a copy of Macula’s autopsy report, change the cause of death from an oxy overdose to a Bupropion overdose, and then give the fake report to Tina. If all went according to plan, she would then turn on Scott, blaming him for Macula’s death, and invite the agents in to her home to capture him.

_Simple in theory. We’ll see how simple in effect_.

Everything was in place, and a SWAT team was on standby by the time it was time for Clinton and Kateri to switch off with Kenny on Saturday morning. Just this morning, unlike Friday morning, everyone went to Tina’s Halifax house. Kenny was going to be the one to pass off the fake report to the nurse, and Kateri only hoped that he would be able to pull the ruse off. He was a good actor— _we all are to some extent or the other_ —but he didn’t usually have to do it after two all-nighter stake-outs and cat-naps during the day. _Makes me tired looking at them._

_Pulling off a ruse like this is easier to do after a long couple of days if you’re already submerged in the part, not switching into it_.

From her and Clinton’s car parked across the street and up a house from Tina’s place, Kateri watched warily as Kenny exited the other car and made his way up the front walk to the nurse’s front door, manila folder in one hand. It was Tina who answered the door, and the two talked for several minutes. What they were saying, Kateri and the others were not able to here. Kenny had his comm on under his beanie, but it wasn’t set to vox so it wouldn’t automatically transmit everything that was being said. The folder was handed over, and it looked like the nurse had opened it. Finally, Kenny departed back down the walk, leaving the nurse silhouetted in the doorway starring at the folder in her hand.

_Almost looks dumbstruck from this distance_.

_We’ll see if this works._

Kenny returned to the other car, and Kateri split her attention between keeping an eye on the house and watching her teammates who were parked just down the street on the other side of Tina’s house. Only a couple minutes had passed when Kateri saw Jess suddenly put his hand to his ear— _his phone_ —and a moment later his voice and Tina’s came across the comms.

_This is it._

“Agent LaCroix.”

“This is Tina Naylene,” the nurse’s voice was profoundly shaken, “Mr. LaCroix, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

_Bloody h**l, it worked!_

_Welcome to the human race._

_Now you just need to try to make things right_.

“I just read the autopsy of Danny Macula,” the nurse continued, voice firming out the longer she spoke, “He died of an overdose of Bupropion. That’s Scott Weitzen’s drug. He must have given it to Danny to help him take his own life.”

“Scott had no right to do that,” there was a thread of anger in her tone by the end.

“I agree,” Jess replied simply, “Where’s Scott now?”

_What else do you say?_

There was a long moment of silence. “He slept in the basement,” Tina finally answered, “He hasn’t come up yet.”

“Okay,” said the boss, “I want you to go out the front door right now.”

“No,” Tina countered, “I’m not leaving him alone.”

_Bloody h**l_.

_What good do you think you can do? What difference is your presence going to make?_

_Talk him down if this goes sideways???_

_Understand the sentiment, but you’re just going to make our work that much harder_. Having potential collateral damage in the way in the midst of a very high-risk raid … _ugh_.

_Weitzen … I think he goes into the extremely high-risk category._

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Tina finished. _You were angry just a moment ago, thinking he helped Danny commit suicide_. “I’m staying right here, and that is that.” _Can you make up your mind?_

“Alright, listen to me carefully,” Jess ordered, “I want you to unlock the front door, and I want you to sit in the front room near a window so that we can see you. No mater what, don’t move, and don’t warn Scott. Understood?”

Tina hung up without answering. Jess came back over the comms a moment later, parceling out instructions, “SWAT will be here in ten. Clinton, you’re on overwatch with SWAT’s sniper. Kat, you’re with us on the breech team.”

* * *

The next ten minutes seemed to pass both incredibly quickly and incredibly slowly at the same time. The team had come prepared so they were already kitted up and their guns were already prepared. Clinton’s sniper rifle was laid out in the backseat in its case ready to go at a moment’s notice. Then all they had to do was wait.

_Je vous salue, Marie,  
pleine de grâce:_

The minutes ticked by slowly. Kateri felt unusually nervous for some reason. _Not every day we’ve got a sniper like Weitzen to go up against. Could’ve killed us all at least twice. Can’t underestimate him_. She checked and then rechecked her Glock at her side, double-checked that the bandage on her right hand was secure— _week long case, it’s healing well, but padding’ll be good_ —and then pulled on her gloves.

_le Seigneur est avec vous;  
vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes,_

“SWAT’s 30 seconds out,” the update came from Kenny over comms.

_et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni.  
Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu,_

Clinton’s hand went to the gear shift. His eyes were fixed on the other end of the street from which any second the SWAT van would appear. “Watch yourself, kid.”

“You, too.” Kateri was going to be very grateful when this whole case was over … for everyone’s sake, especially Kenny’s.

_priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs,  
maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort._

_Amen._

As the front bumper of the SWAT van appeared up at the street corner, Clinton hit the gas, and the car sped forward, only to stop with a screech of rubber right in front of Tina’s front lawn. The SWAT van was moving just as quickly, and by the time Clinton and Kateri were exiting the car, it had pulled to a stop behind them.

Gun drawn, Kateri faced the house making sure her partner was covered while he went for his sniper rifle. The car door slamming cued her in to when he was ready, and then she moved left toward Jess and the others who had just pulled up in the other car. With Hana running comms from the bus, Kenny and Kateri would partner up again.

_And hope we don’t get jinxed._

_Bloody h**l._

_You’re getting too superstitious._

SWAT was pouring from its van and moving towards the house. Kateri glanced back towards the cars. _Okay, Clinton moved positions from the trunk to the front_. She made a hand signal to him, indicating that she needed to move across his line-of-fire to join up with Kenny. _We try to avoid sweeping each other. Been shot or almost shot enough in my career already_. Only when he signaled back okay did she quickly step across, letting Jess and Barnes pass in front of her, and fall into line next to Kenny.

With the front door unlocked, breaching the house was a fast and quiet job. No battering rams for the door were required. _At that point when we need to use it, if nobody inside had noticed us already, they would then. Smashing a door is looouuuuddddd._ SWAT entered the house first and was already fanning out to start clearing the first floor as Jess, Barnes, Kenny, and Kateri entered on their heels. Tina was sitting on the couch in front of the bay window, hands in the air, covered by a SWAT officer with gun raised. Jess put a finger to his lips, signaling for silence, and Tina, in response, pointed to a particular door.

_Must lead to the basement._ Kateri realized. _That’s where Tina said Scott is_.

The door did lead downstairs. A SWAT officer tossed a flash bang down the basement steps to clear the way, and several SWAT officers along with Jess and Barnes poured downstairs to hopefully capture Scott alive. While that was ongoing, Kateri and Kenny helped finish clearing the upstairs. Clearing with Kenny wasn’t ingrained as it was with Clinton. With her partner, Kateri almost had the moves almost down to an art form, could almost do them in her sleep. She worked well with Kenny, but still sometimes there was a split-second pause to see which one of them was supposed to enter first, to see which way he was going to go and which way she needed to go once they were inside.

The comms for SWAT and the team were on the same frequency— _they aren’t much good if I only hear half of what’s happening_ —and all ear pieces were set to vox, so Kateri could hear what was ongoing downstairs as she returned to the living room where Tina was still sitting under guard.

“Right side is clear.”

“Clear left.”

Then came the update that no one wanted to hear: Jess’ voice saying, “Suspect’s MIA.”

_Oh, boy._

Kateri glanced over at Kenny and blanched, making a bloody-h**l grimace, even as at a signal from one of the SWAT officers, she called over the comms, “House is clear.”

_Bloody, bloody, bloody h**l_.

_This is so, so not good_.

_Where the h**l is he?_

The only thing worse than having a sniper as an opponent or even an unstable sniper as an opponent was having an unstable sniper whose location was currently unknown and who had already had the opportunity to take out the whole team twice as an opponent. _Recipe for disaster_. By getting Tina to turn on Scott, the team had thought they would have Scott contained where his greatest skill would no longer be in play. _Can’t really use a sniper rifle indoors, except as a bludgeon._

Now, all bets were off.

_This situation’s about two steps from turning into other SNAFU._

Kateri reholstered her Glock but kept her left hand hanging free at her side. The fingers of her other hand drummed uneasily on her leg, and she glanced several times out the window, cataloging the positions of her partner, the other SWAT sniper, and the SWAT officers still in the yard. _Okay, they switched positions. Threat’s out, not in now_.

Boots drummed on the stairs, and then Jess and Barnes reappeared.

“He’s gone,” Jess stated, voice gruff and face displeased, “He might have snuck out during the night. You know where he might go?”

Tina rose to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she replied with a glance at Kenny, who looked about as happy with the situation as Kateri felt, “I … I thought he was still here.”

_You must not be a light sleeper_.

Houses— _and apartments for that matter_ —had their own distinctive creaks in their own particular locations. Unless you knew a house very well … _as in from repeated personal experience well_ … it was often hard sneaking out of someone else’s place without hitting at least some creaks. _Even Clinton can’t get out of my apartment without hitting the creaks, and I’ve heard him try_.

“You’re coming with us,” Jess replied and turned away.

The whole group filed through the house and out into the crowded garage that would have just enough room for a small car in between all the stuff. The handful of SWAT officers with them, who had not headed out the front door, were in the rear, with Barnes leading the nurse by the arm in the middle, and Jess, Kenny, and Kateri in front.

As the garage door clattered up, Clinton called over the comms, “Jess, you better keep everybody inside until it’s clear.”

His words were almost prophetic.

A couple of seconds later the crack of a bullet resounded through the air. A SWAT officer near the rear of Tina’s car, which was in the driveway, the hood pointing toward the garage, dropped to the ground with a howl of agony, clutching his leg.

_Bloody h**l_.

Kateri only had time for the single thought to run through her mind. It was time to move, not to think, or she might be the next to fall. Due to the narrowness of the garage and the limited space between the rows of stuff and the laundry machines on the other side, Kateri had ended up several steps in front of the others. From glancing back a split second before the first shot rang up, she knew the others were between Tina’s car and the garage, but Kateri herself was already several steps past the front of the car.

“Get inside!” Jess hollered from behind her.

_Not room for all in there!_

_Not enough cover_.

Kateri was already turning. She was too far from the cars on the street to make it all the way down to her partner’s side. _Bless the adrenaline._ Her mind raced through options for cover at lightning-fast speed as she completed her whirling turn and drew her gun. Her teammates, who had been several steps behind her, were just finishing their dash into the garage, so _I’d have to get well past them to find cover along the edges deep inside._

Kateri was still moving as her thoughts kept whirring. _Far side of the garage with the SWAT commander, too far_. Two more steps forward, and her foot slipped, but a hand was already latching onto her sleeve, and a SWAT officer sheltering behind Tina’s car half-pulled her, half-dragged her behind the car and shoved her behind him. _He’s the one with the big gun. Glock’s basically a plink-plink toy against a sniper rifle_.

The crack of another bullet had pierced the air as the team finished ducking for cover, but miraculously no one else had seemed to be hit … yet. _Intentional. Weitzen’s too good to miss in these conditions unless it’s intentional_. _Weather’s a lot better than the other night._

The SWAT officer hit was trying to drag himself across the ground to cover, and his screams of agony were heart-rending and ear-piercing.

“No visual,” someone shouted, the words echoing across the comms.

_You don’t say._

Weitzen fired a third time, the shot cracking through the air. Having moved back just far enough so she could see around her car and companion while still being sheltered be the car, Kateri saw another SWAT officer fall. He’d bravely been making a dash across the yard, trying to get to his injured comrade, but fell a few feet short.

_Bloody h**l_.

_Bloody, bloody, bloody h**l_.

What was the worst was that Kateri and her teammates and the rest of SWAT could do nothing but sit or stand or crouch there and watch. _Scott’s got us pinned down. We emerge from cover, and we’re just asking to be shot. Try to be a hero, and you’re just adding to the numbers the medics have to treat_. Scott did not seem to be shooting to kill quite yet, but he easily could switch. The yard was huge and open with no cover to speak of until you reached the cars on the street. There were no bushes, no trees, no nothing, just an open plain of grass. Until Clinton or the other sniper manage to locate Weitzen and where he was shooting from, _we’re sitting ducks if we try to move or pull either of ‘em to cover_.

_Spraying lead in his direction isn’t even an option, though is it ever??_

Kateri crossed herself with her free hand.

_Notre Père qui es aux cieux, que ton Nom soit sanctifié, que ton règne vienne,_

“Clinton, can you see him?” Jess called over the comms.

_que ta volonté sit soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel._

Kateri could see her partner moving as he scanned for Weitzen. “Negative,” Clinton replied, voice tight, “I think he’s possibly in the trees. He’s using a suppressor.”

_Bloody h**l. That’s bad._

_Donne-nous aujourd'hui notre pain quotidien._

The first SWAT officer who had gone down was still trying to drag himself across the ground, inch by painful inch. Despite the agony of his wounds, he was still trying to pull himself toward the cover of the car or the garage. His face was twisted with agony, and every movement tore a pained groan from his lips, but still he kept moving inch by painful inch.

_Come on, come on._

_Pardonne-nous nos offenses comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés._

Kateri had moved back a few more inches and ducked even lower so that she was hopefully in the officer’s line-of-sight, and she and Kenny— _they’re still okay for now_ —were trying to encourage him on. _If I switch places with this guy next to me. I can reach the injured guy before Kenny or the others could_. She hated that she didn’t know their names. _Would like to know the names of those I’m in proverbial fox-hole with_.

_Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation, mais délivre-nous du mal._

Weitzen was pitiless, and soon another shot rang out, and the first injured office, who was growing closer to the rear of the car by the minute, jerked, almost convulsing in agony, as he was shot a second time. _Bloody, bloody h**l_. Kateri bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. _One of the bravest sights I’ve ever seen. He’s in agony, and he keeps on coming, and I can’t help him_.

_Car c’est à toi qu’appartiennent, le règne la puissance et la gloire. Amen_.

Words drifted out from the garage. Jess was saying something to Tina about “a number for him.” _Cellphone number for Weitzen?_ Tina nodded and reached into one of her pockets, emerging with her cellphone. Kateri turned away. _They’re solid for now_.

The call must have connected, because seconds later, Jess’ side of the conversation came over the comms, “Scott, this is Agent Jess LaCroix. Please don’t hang up. You have us pinned down.”

_You’re the fox, and we’re the hens, and you have prime pick at the moment_.

“I see what you can do. Everybody can see what you can do, okay? I’d just like to help you, so let’s talk…” Jess’ words cut off a moment later, and then there was a growl of fury.

_So much for that idea_.

A second later another shot rang out, and Jess jerked backwards as a bullet impacted the larger wooden wardrobey-like thing that he and Tina were sheltering behind.

_Bloody h**l_.

_He’s bloody good._

Kateri holstered her gun so that she had both hands free. The injured SWAT officer— _the one shot first, not the one shot trying to help this guy. Wish I knew names_ —despite being shot twice with a high-powered rifle, was somehow mustering the mental and physical strength to keep on coming. His every movement was getting slower, and the agony on his face was growing more pronounced, but still he kept coming inch by painful inch.

_You’re an inspiration._

_Just keep on coming._

Kateri tapped the shoulder of the officer who had dragged her behind cover. “Switch places with me,” she hissed, “if your buddy can get himself a little closer, I can drag him to cover.”

_Please, God, let this work without more of us getting shot_.

The other officer nodded— _I wish I knew your name_ —and moved backwards, allowing Kateri to move up to the corner of the car. Keeping her head down, she waved one hand low to the ground until she saw the injured officer’s eyes flick toward her for a split second, and she motioned to him. _Angle toward me. Angle toward me. Keep on coming, but come towards me_.

“Come on. You can do it.” Kateri called, keeping her voice low and motioning again with her hand, “A couple more feet and then I can reach you. Just a couple more feet.”

_A little more than that._

_Gotta make it seem more attainable._

_Like telling yourself just one more step._

The man’s howls had subsided to groans and moans of pain, and each time he pushed himself up slightly to drag himself forward, his movements were slower and weaker than the time before.

_Just a few more feet_.

“Oh, come on, man, stay with us,” Kenny’s voice drifted from the garage. Kateri turned her head for a second back towards him, “He’s bleeding out. I gotta go get him.”

“That’s what Scott’s waiting for,” Barnes protested.

“I’m closer,” Kateri called toward the garage, blocking her comm with one hand so the conversation didn’t distract Clinton or the other sniper still linked into the comms “A couple more feet and I can grab him. I’ll be less exposed.”

_Just a couple more feet_.

“Clinton, anything,” Jess snapped, worry and stress harshening his tone.

“Negative,” Clinton replied, “His camo’s too good. Acoustics would help to find him.”

_Bloody, bloody h**l!_

Kateri tuned out Jess’ conversation with Hana over comms. She couldn’t imagine what she was going through right then with the team pinned down. _Worse by an order of magnitude than when Kenny almost got smushed_. Her attention was focused on the first injured SWAT officer—the second had dropped in his tracks and lay where he fell, and Kateri could only hope he wasn’t dead—but the other was still coming, though he was barely being able to pull himself forward at all each time now.

_He’s running out of strength, and we’re running out of time to help him._

Her mind began to race through what first-aid equipment she had on her. _Until Weitzen’s dealt with can’t get to first-aid kit in cars or what SWAT might have in their van. All he has to do is get close enough that I can drag him behind cover_. SWAT usually had a medic with them, but where the medic was, Kateri didn’t know. _Could be one of the two down for all I know_. EMS wouldn’t be allowed on site until the scene was secure and Weitzen was no longer a threat.

“What med supplies do you have?” Kateri hissed to the officer behind her.

“Tourniquet and two of QuikClot.[1]”

_And I’ve got one Israeli **[2]** and two of QuikClot_. She’d repackaged the contents of her cargo pants specifically that morning in preparation for the expected raid. _Two shots. Israeli and tourniquet’ll only work on limbs. I hope we’ve got enough gauze_. _This guy got hit once in the leg, not sure where second shot penetrated. Or where the other man was shot. Bloody h**l._

Kateri was not a trained medic by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew more than the average SWAT officer or FBI agent and had taken some advanced classes. When you got injured on undercover ops, sometimes there was no choice but to be your own medic, and you could live or die by your own skill, and Kateri had been forced to patch herself up more than once. _Sometimes best to avoid underground docs._ If the SWAT medic wasn’t down, he could deal with the other officer, and she could deal with this one until EMS arrived. _And then someone who knows a h**l of a lot more than me can bloody well take over_.

“I can hear him breathe,” Clinton’s voice over comms was quiet.

The downed SWAT officer had almost stopped moving by then. _We’re running out of time!_

“Come on,” Kateri called, pitching her voice low, “Three more feet, and I can reach you.”

His head came up, and he valiantly pushed himself up again and gained another inch or two of ground, but it was clear on his face that his strength was basically spent.

_If I knew what direction Weitzen was shooting from, I might be able to get a little beyond the car before I’m exposed, but I don’t know. I don’t know._

If Kateri or any of the others exposed themselves too quickly in a bid to try to pull their injured comrades to safety, _we’ll have three or more people down, and Weitzen’ll still be up there_.

Kateri glanced back into the garage. Kenny had a look on his face like he was about to do something rash. _Is he goin’ for him??? If he goes, do I go with him? Could we drag him under cover faster together?_

A heartbeat passed.

Then two.

Kateri glanced back to the yard, checking on the downed officer’s position— _I wish I knew his name_ —and her partner’s.

Another heartbeat passed.

“Kenny, no,” came Jess’ low-growl from the garage. _Bloody h**l_.

Then a second.

Kenny emerged from the shelter of the garage at a dead run, his target the downed officer closest to the car. Kateri started to push herself up to follow—she was crouched, which delayed her response—but a hand closed on the back of her vest, anchoring her and preventing her from moving.

“Don’t!” The officer behind her hissed, “We need one medic not shot.”

_Bloody, bloody, bloody h**l_.

_Too late now anyway_.

Kenny had reached his target and was bending down to grab hold of the SWAT officer’s vest.

A shot rang out.

_No, no, no, no, no, no!_

Kenny jerked as if he expected to have been hit but stayed on his feet, and from high-up in one of the trees across the street, a body started to fall down, down through the branches, branches breaking as he fell.

“Suspect down!” It was Clinton’s voice.

_Thank God!_ It felt wrong in some ways to be thankful for the death of another person, even a man such as Weitzen. Stopping the threat from him, however, meant that the agents were no longer in danger and the two injured SWAT officers could be helped before they died, too, adding to Weitzen’s body count.

Kateri bolted to her feet and bolted forward towards the closest downed officer. “Boss,” she hollered. Her teammates were already moving toward the street where Clinton was.

“Stay. You’re good,” Jess called, “EMS is on its way.”

_Can’t get here soon enough_.

Kateri dropped to her knees beside him. “Hold on, hold on,” she murmured, “You’re not allowed to die on me. That’s an order.” Two fingers went to his neck. A weak pulse beat under her fingertips. Whether he was still conscious she didn’t know, but _breath and a pulse, that I can work with_.

“What do you need?” The officer who had pulled her to safety asked.

“Whatever supplies you have in your pockets, and your hands,” Kateri replied, looking up for a split second. _Right knee. Left thigh._ Her hands were already moving to check over limbs and abdomen. _Sucking chest wound or punctured lung’ll kill you before blood loss will._ “There are med kits in the trunks of our cars. Get anything you need for your other man. I can only deal with one at a time. Bring me one kit. If you’ve got supplies in your truck, get those, too.” _Don’t think he was shot more than twice, but …_

Orders were shouted, and runners were dispatched for the med-kits. The lawn had turned into organized chaos.

“What’s your name?” Kateri asked her helper, who knelt on the other side of the downed officer, “And what’s his name?”

“Charles, and this is Nate,” Charles replied, pulling the promised tourniquet and QuikClot packages from his pockets.

_Okay. Okay._ Kateri realized with a stomach-inducing lurch that she was kneeling in a pool of blood that was now coating the knees and lower legs of her pants. _You can be sick or panic later. NOT NOW_. “Okay. Get another one of your buddies here. This isn’t going to be pretty, and I need Nate still.”

Field medicine was not pretty or gentle. It was all about making sure someone had a chance of making it to further help.

Charles shouted, and a runner headed over with one of the med kits from the team’s cars. “What do I do?” He asked, sitting the kit down within reach.

Grabbing another Israeli from the kit brought over to have it on hand if she needed it, Kateri ordered, “In a second, hold your buddy’s shoulders down. If he’s not conscious now, he probably will be in a second when I put this tourniquet on. Don’t let him move. Talk to him. This is going to hurt like h**l, but he’ll die if I don’t.”

_God help me!_

“Help me roll him onto his back,” Kateri ordered again.

Nate was gently rolled onto his side and then onto his back. His eyes were closed, his face lax in unconsciousness, _respite from the pain for a minute_.

_He’ll be awake right quickly, I expect, if he’s not lucky enough to stay out._

_Good. Two entry wounds, and two exit_.

Kateri passed one Israeli and two packages of QuikClot to Charles, “QuikClot first. Then Israeli. As tight as you can get it.”

Jerking her boot knife from its sheath in her boot, Kateri slit Nate’s pants leg that hindered her view of the wound on her side and then passed the knife across to Charles and told him to do the same. To work, you had to be able to see.

Blood was leaking from both wounds at an impressive rate, and Nate had already been bleeding for long minutes. _Don’t know how much longer he can last_. _At least it’s not arterial._ The wound was, problematically, too high up on his leg for a tourniquet to work, but the Israeli would still work to put pressure on it. _Won’t work as well as if it’s lower, but hopefully it’ll be enough_.

As Charles set to work on Nate’s other side, Kateri grabbed another Israeli from her pockets, the tourniquet that Charles had given her, and two more packages of QuikClot.

_Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce:  
le Seigneur est avec vous;_

From there, her hands moved into automatic, as Kateri focused her attention completely on completing step after step, saving the life of this very brave man. She did her best to ignore his cries of pain as their painful but live-saving ministrations quickly brought him back to consciousness.

Thick pad of QuikClot on entry and another on exit

Open Israeli

  
_vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes,  
et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni._

Bandage section on entry side

Pressure applicator offset from wound

One revolution around leg

_You know the drill._

_Don’t react to the screaming._

  
_Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu,  
priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs,_

Insert cloth into pressure applicator

Keep wrapping in opposite direction

_You’re saving his life._

_Don’t react._

_You’re saving his life._

Fasten with closure bar

  
_maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort.  
Amen._

Blood was still leaking out from under all that gauze and cloth by the time she was finished, trickling down the already bloody skin of Nate’s leg.

“Bloody h**l,” Kateri swore under her breath and grabbed for the tourniquet. She had hoped the direct pressure on the wound with the QuikClot gauze plus the Israeli would be enough, but she had seen blood already soaking through the gauze as she had wrapped the Israeli. _Not arterial or he’d be dead, but still bloody bad._

_Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce:  
le Seigneur est avec vous;_

“Hold him down again. This is going to hurt like h**l,” Kateri snapped. She moved positions slightly so that she could use her knees on Nate’s lower leg to help hold him in place and give her more leverage.

_vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes,  
et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni._

Nate’s back arched up off the ground despite the weight of his teammates leaning on him, and he howled with agony. His cries felt like a knife stabbing into her heart and into her ears, but still Kateri kept on. _Field medicine isn’t pretty. Save his life, and then have a breakdown._ She knew she was doing what had to be done to save his life from two heavily bleeding leg wounds, but causing a man agony was still causing a man agony, and _really, really horrible to listen to._ Fixing her own wounds, she could do, without a proverbial flinch, but Kateri hated having to patch up other people.

_Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu,  
priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs,_

Kateri’s hands were slippery with blood, and it took her two tries to get the tourniquet tightened as much as she dared.

  
_maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort.  
Amen._

Sirens split the air, and from up at the corner two ambulances appeared, turning onto the street and racing toward them.

“Thank God!” Kateri murmured, leaning across to check Charles’ work.

_It’s as good as it’s going to be_.

Kateri set a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “EMS is almost here. Just got to hold on a little longer. You’re not allowed to die on me, got it?”

To her great surprise, there was a rough, almost inaudible, reply, “Yes, ma’am.”

_You’re conscious._

_You’re still with me._

_You’re still breathing._

_That’s good_.

_We can work with that_.

The ambulances pulled to a stop in the street. They had gotten as close as they could, but the team’s two cars and the SWAT van blocked them from getting right up to the house. The paramedics appeared, bags and bags of equipment in hand, and ran towards the downed men. _Thank God. Someone who knows more than I do_. Kateri knew more than most, but she was well aware of how little she actually knew compared to some. _A little knowledge can be a scary thing if you don’t realize or acknowledge you only know a little._

Kateri briefly explained Nate’s injuries and what she and Charles had done, and then accepting a hand from Charles to get to her feet, Kateri rose and backed out of the way until she could lean against Tina’s car. _Bloody, bloody h**l_. Her heart was pounding and pounding, and now that she stood up, she felt quite shaky as the adrenaline wore off.

Kateri went to lean her hands on her knees, but then she realized— _re-realized_ —that her pants and boots were covered in bloods from her knees down. Her hands and wrists were covered in blood also, blood already starting to dry in the air, leaving a copper stain across her copper skin.

Kateri had tugged off her gloves and tugged up her jacket sleeves before she had started to work. _And now there’s blood everywhere_. In tugging up her jacket sleeves, she had revealed the deep rope-burn scars that still encircled both wrists, and now there was blood on the scars, as well. _Bloody scars …_

_Sobbing cries_

_Cold, so cold_

_Bone-deep, pulsing ache in her wrist_

_Utter darkness_

_Smell of dust and decay and sick_

_Please find me. Please find me._

_Where are you?_

_Please find me._

**** ****

Kateri blinked. For a moment, her wrists looked like bloody ground beef— _how I always imagined my wrists were after that day_ —and then she blinked again, and the scars were again just scars, only now blood-covered ones.

She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, hear her blood roaring in her ears. It seemed like there was a heavy weight sitting on her chest, preventing her from drawing a deep breath. The memories had seemed so fresh, so vivid for an instant. It seemed like she had been back in that room for a moment.

_Bloody hate those memories._

_Get a grip. Not here. Not now_.

_You’re okay._

_Not now._

_Not now._

_Breath._

_Just breath_.

_You’re okay._

_You’re okay._

_Just a little blood._

_Just blood._

_It can’t hurt you._

_Memories can’t hurt you._

_Just memories._

_You survived._

A hand touched her shoulder, but it wasn’t the right hand, wasn’t attached to the the right person, and Kateri instinctively flinched away, still caught in the loosening threads of her near-panic attack, wrapping her arms around her abdomen, headless of the blood she was smearing everywhere. She was sure she probably looked like an extra from a horror film.

_Breath._

_Just breath._

_You’re safe._

_You’re not there anymore._

_Just blood. Can’t hurt you._

_You survived. You’re safe._

_Just memories now._

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” It was Charles’ voice, the SWAT officer who had helped her with Nate.

_You’re in Massachusetts. You’re finishing up a case with Scott Weitzen._

_You were treating Nate. That’s where the blood came from._

The routine of grounding herself to reality and digging her way out of the memories was sadly familiar.

_Not in New York. Not hunting May or Carter._

_You’re safe._

Biting her lip until she tasted blood, Kateri shook her head, looking up long enough to meet his eyes. “No, I’m not hurt.” She glanced away from the house in the direction her partner and the others had disappeared some minutes before. How long had passed, she wasn’t sure, and _I can’t read my watch for the blood. Bloody h**l_. “Can you get my partner for me?”

_Breath. Just breath._

_You’re safe. You’re not there anymore_.

_It’s just blood. You’re not there_.

_Just memories._

_You survived._

“Yea, yea. Which one’s he? You were with the big guy, right?” Charles called for one of his teammates.

Kateri shook her lead, pinching her eyes shut against a wave of dizziness. _I hate panic attacks_. “No, the sniper.”

Someone was dispatched to go find her teammates. Kateri focused her attention back on steadying her breathing and not letting her thoughts run away with her, not letting herself spiral around thoughts of the danger her teammates (and her) at been in or the worry that she might have done something wrong while treating Nate.

_Breathe. Just breathe_.

_You’re safe. The others are safe._

_You did everything you could for Nate._

_It’s just blood._

_You’re safe. The others are safe._

_You’re in Massachusetts._

_It’s November 2019, not December 2017._

“Is there anything I can do?” Charles asked. _Did he see the scars? Voice would probably be different if he did. They always make people react one way or another._

Kateri shook her head, tucking her shaking hands tighter against her sides. Her left hand brushed against the bottom of her ribcage where one of her old scars lay hidden under her clothes and vest. The memory of that old injury had been closer to mind since the near-debacle at the storage facility a couple of days before. _Nothing happened like that. We’re all safe and not hurt despite … this._

_Breathe. Just breathe_.

_You’re safe._

_The others are safe._

_Kenny’s safe. Clinton’s safe._

_Just memories._

A few long minutes passed. The EMTs finished their work on Nate and the other injured man— _the medic_ —and the ambulances departed with a roar of sirens that made Kateri flinch. Noises always seemed louder at times like these when her PTSS came roaring back. Another minute passed, and then Charles touched her shoulder again, “Your partner’s coming.”

_Breathe. Just breathe_.

A minute later there were new footsteps, ones she recognized this time. Kateri looked up. Most of the team were down by the cars, talking and unkitting and doing other things, but Clinton was coming up the driveway toward her. She could read concern in his face and eyes, but to others his face would have probably just looked blank. Charles stepped away after she gave him a grateful smile and thanked him for his help.

“I’m not hurt,” Kateri said before her partner could speak, unlocking her arms from around her waist long enough to gesture at the blood all across her pants and across her fleece jacket that she had on over her vest.

“Panic attack?” Clinton asked quietly … not in English, squeezing her shoulder.

“Flashback induced panic attack,” Kateri clarified, “I took my gloves off to work, and blood got on my wrists.” _On my scars_ was what she really meant and just didn’t say. _Clinton’ll know what I mean_. Her breathing quickened again. She was still coming down from the panic attack, which meant it was all the more easy to tip back over into a second. And sometimes, telling yourself everything was okay and all the variations thereof just didn’t work so well.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed again, “Breathe, kid. You’re alright. It’s just blood.”

“I look like an extra from a horror-movie set,” Kateri replied, voice shaky.

_And I don’t even like horror-movies._

_Some are too much like my job some days._

_Blood doesn’t bother me … usually._

_But this is a very bad day_.

_And there’s so much blood._

_Bloody h**l._

_The sooner they get him to the hospital, the better._

Clinton’s voice was calm, his whole demeanor was calm— _intentionally, he knows the drill by now when I’m having a moment_ —and Kateri latched onto the calm in his voice to help calm herself. “Your jacket comes off,” he was saying, “Between someone’s drink and alcohol wipes, most of the blood on your hands will come off here. Clean pants at the bus.”

_Cleaning my boots’ll be fun._

_And then I’ll stop looking like an ax murder’s latest victim._

Kateri nodded, shakily sucking in a deep breath, “Good. That sounds good. And Weitzen?”

“Dead.” Her partner’s voice went flat. Stopping the threat didn’t make it any easier to take a life. _The day we’re not affected by having to pull the trigger is the day we need to stop this job immediately._

_Figured he was dead if from nothing less than that fall_.

_Wish there had been another way._

“And the rest of us are alive because of your good shooting.” Kateri could feel her breaths slowing … slowly and her panic easing. The safety she felt in her partner’s presence helped allay the fear and panic, and having someone else, something else to focus on besides the panic helped, too.

_Eternal rest, grant unto him, O Lord, **[3]**_

_And let perpetual light shine upon him._

_May he rest in peace. Amen._

A few more minutes passed, and Kateri finally straightened.

“Better?” Her partner asked.

She nodded. _Getting there. Now, let’s go home_.

The two walked back down the driveway to the street where the cars were still parked haphazardly hither and thither. _We’re not interested in parking so as to pass a driving course when we’re pulling up for a raid. Speed and cover are the names of the game_. Clinton was called away by someone—Kateri wasn’t sure who. There were so many people that voices all blurred together—but Kenny saw her coming, made a face, and instantly went rummaging in the car for something. He emerged a minute later with a towel— _from his go-bag?_ —and a water bottle as she made it to the side of the car.

“How’s the officer?” Kenny asked, as he began to help Kateri get her jacket off. _Without smearing blood onto anything else_. “Think you’re jacket may be a goner unless we can get it washed quickly.”

“It was getting old and worn anyway. He was still breathing and conscious when the paramedics arrived. Right knee. Left thigh. I patched him up the best I could. Hence why I’m covered in blood.”

_Glad I don’t have a weak stomach_.

Once Kateri had her jacket off, Kenny took it and folded it around so that the bloody parts were inward and wouldn’t stain anything else. “Hands,” he said, when he had finished, making a gimmee gesture for her to hold her hands out.

There was only a little blood on her shirt cuffs— _thankfully, I like this black-watch shirt_ —since she had pulled her sleeves up before she began, but blood had dried all over her hands and wrist, coating them in copper. Kenny slowly poured the contents of the water bottle over her hands, giving her time to scrub them together over the grass and let the bloody water run off onto the ground.

“I’m ready to go home,” Kateri said as they worked.

“Yea, me, too,” Kenny agreed, an indecipherable look tugging down one corner of his mouth. His voice dropped in pitch, “Was telling the boss. I think it’s time I checked back in with my group.”

_After a bloody case like this …_

“Think that sounds like a good plan.”

_We’re all alive, no thanks to Weitzen._

_Now we can pick up the pieces._

* * *

[1] <https://quikclot.com/QuikClot/About-QuikClot>

[2] <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emergency_Bandage>

[3] <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eternal_Rest>


End file.
